A Hiding to Nothing
by Laine3112
Summary: When Tony and Palmer stumble into a perilous situation, Gibbs and Ducky exhaust all avenues to get them back safely. Hurt/Comfort Drama/Family Story concept by Fivetimesthelove  Dedicated to Liz & Ethan
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A/N** Some months ago, I was asked by a special friend and FFnet member, to look over the concept of a story she was hoping to write. It was to be her first multi-chapter story. As a very busy young mum with five children to care for, it was understandably a slow process as Liz added to her ideas whenever time allowed. Two weeks ago, she contacted me to advise that her adorable five year old son, Ethan, was undergoing surgery for his second brain tumour. Naturally distraught, she thanked me for my time and advised that she would not be proceeding with the story.

Other than keeping this gorgeous little family in my thoughts and prayers, there is very little I can do for them – but with Liz's blessing, I have decided to finish her story. I don't usually write to order so this is a new experience for me. Using Liz's concept and her notes, I'll try to stay as close to her original story line as possible and we'll see what happens! Please forgive any delays, I will try to update as often as possible.

Whether you believe in the power of prayer or positive thinking, please include little Ethan, Liz and their wonderful little family in your thoughts. You can find Liz's profile under her user name of Fivetimesthelove. L

**Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter One**

A silver Ford Explorer travelled slowly along a fire trail in the Bentley State Forest, leaving choking clouds of billing dust in its wake. On both sides of the trail the densely populated pine and spruce trees reached heavenward seeking the warmth of the sun. As the vehicle rounded a sweeping curve the forest opened to a small clearing.

Confirming the co-ordinates on his GPS device, Petty Officer Jason Harvey brought the vehicle to a halt and took stock of the surroundings – they were miles from anywhere. Beside him, Petty Officer Paul Leyton checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes before shooting his friend another anxious glance.

"I don't like this," he stated.

"So you've said at least forty times now," Harvey replied releasing an exasperated sigh. "We've been over this again and again and we both agreed to go through with it."

"We should have gone to the authorities and asked for help," Leyton argued.

"And what would we say?" Harvey growled. "That while we were on shore leave in Indonesia we got so wasted that we woke up the next morning in bed with a couple of under-age hookers! That's cause for dishonourable discharge not to mention what would happen if our wives and families found out."

"They drugged us!" Leyton hissed. "We can plead extenuating circumstances!"

"It's too late for that now! Any blood or piss test we took now would show no trace of whatever drug they used on us. It would be our word against theirs and they're holding all the proof."

"They can't touch us here, there's no extradition treaty between the USA and Indonesia."

"They threatened our families and they know where we live. You want to risk your family and your career, then you go ahead," Harvey told him. "I'm going to deliver this flash drive like we were told. That's all we have to do, once they have the flash drive they said they'd hand over the photos and DNA evidence."

"We don't even know what's on the flash drive! It could be a breach of national security for all we know," Leyton countered. "And what if they don't hand over the evidence?"

Harvey pursed his lips in thought and turned to meet his friend's anxious eyes. His hand moved to his jacket pocket and he removed a shiny, black Beretta.

"I brought some insurance of our own," he replied.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Tony DiNozzo wore a smile as bright as the second sun as he guided his classic '66 Mustang northward on the I-95. Taking advantage of the light Saturday afternoon traffic he stepped on the gas pedal, enjoying the surge of the power as the vehicle lurched onward toward DC. From the passenger seat, Jimmy Palmer shook his head and grinned, caught up in the wave of euphoria that washed over the other man.

"Admit it, Palmer," Tony tried for the fifth time. "That was one of the best finishes to a game of basketball _ever!"_

"Well, I wouldn't say _ever_, Tony, but it was certainly a very satisfying victory."

"A satisfying victory?" Tony repeated.

He frowned at the younger man before launching into an enthusiastic commentary of the last play of the game.

"We're behind 33-35 to arch rivals the Richmond Rangers. With just 7 seconds left on the clock, I push the ball up court, looking for my shooting guards who are both smothered by their opposites. I can't risk a turnover so I'm wondering…should I take the ball to the basket or get to the top of the key and hope someone else gets clear? With three seconds left on the clock I've got three defenders in my face. I feign to the right but go left and launch the ball for a 26-foot 3-point buzzer-beater that guarantees us a place in next week's play-offs. That's more than a satisfying victory, Palmer, that was _freaking __fantastic!__"_

"I'm just kidding you, Tony," Jimmy said with a laugh. "It was a one-in-a-million shot. Thanks again for asking me to play today. I thought, after last time, you'd ask McGee for sure."

"Basketball's not really Probie's game. He's more of a weekend warrior McPaintball kind of guy - even manufactures his own ammo."

"Really?"

"Really. I call it McGoo's Goo - a unique blend of oatmeal, mayo and carpenter's glue mixed to the consistency of...bird poo," Tony said wrinkling his nose. "We gotta find that guy a woman."

"Anyway, I just want to say that I appreciate your show of confidence and the opportunity to play on your team in such an important game."

Palmer felt the heat of embarrassment warm his cheeks as he recalled the last time he "filled-in" on Tony's team. Between working and studying for his finals, he hadn't been exercising and was badly out of shape. He had to remove his glasses and had forgotten his contact lenses. His vision was so badly affected that he couldn't tell his teammates from his opponents. He turned-over possession so many times that Tony accused him of playing extra-man for the opposition before banishing him to the bench.

"Anyone can have an off game, right?" Tony remarked. "Besides, with three of our regular guys unavailable, we were desperate for replacements - it was either you or Ducky and he'd already made plans, so…"

"At least I remembered my contacts today," Jimmy replied brightly, "and I've been more aware of my fitness since I started dating Breena. I was a bit of a couch potato back then."

"A couch potato! I hate to break this to you, man, but I've seen real potatoes play better than you did last time," Tony replied. "But, yeah, you had a good game today, Jimmy."

"You really think so?"

"Sure, you showed some good hustle and, this time, you got more assists for us than for the other team - that's a huge improvement from last time," Tony deadpanned as the younger man straightened his posture and grinned at the backhanded compliment.

Frowning, Tony reached forward and tapped his index finger on the console.

"Damn," he uttered softly.

"Problem?" Jimmy asked.

"Gauge keeps sticking. I've been meaning to get that fixed but haven't had a chance to get her in for a service."

"Are we out of gas?"

"No, but we don't have enough to make it back to Washington. There's an exit up ahead and a gas station about five miles on. We'll fill up there."

Palmer leaned forward looking worriedly at the faulty gauge.

"Relax, Palmer," Tony said. "The sun's shining; the top's down, we won the game and have the rest of the weekend off. Life is good."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Fifteen minutes later they left the interstate in search of gas, Tony's optimism faded slightly when the first gas station they came to was closed for refurbishments. With a nonchalant shrug for Palmer's benefit, they began the twenty-mile journey to the next closest gas station, both hoping that they wouldn't have to get out and push the Mustang anytime soon.

Arriving at the small town of Leafy Grove, Palmer released a huge sigh of relief as a gas station came into view. Cruising the last fifty yards on vapours, the Mustang sputtered and jerked its way to the pumps where its gas-starved engine finally stalled.

"Told you, Palmer," Tony said with a grin. "This is my lucky day!"

He turned in his seat looking for his gym bag and frowned when only Palmer's was visible.

"Where's my bag?"

"Oh, I put yours in the trunk," Palmer replied. "No offence, Tony, but your shoes are a little…er…ripe!"

"They are not!" Tony protested.

Palmer raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

"Okay…so maybe they are," Tony conceded. "But my cell and wallet are in my bag so you better hope that Gibbs hasn't been trying to call me – rule number three, Palmer, never be unreachable - even on our weekend off."

As Tony moved to fill the tank, Palmer used the restroom and then noticed a drug store across the street in the small strip mall. Already feeling the ache from muscles that were protesting loudly, the assistant ME headed across the road to buy a large tube of ultra-strength Bengay.

Waiting for the tank to fill, Tony hummed to himself, appreciating the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze. His eyes were quickly drawn to two attractive women wearing skimpy denim shorts and tank tops.

"Afternoon, ladies," he greeted, flashing his trademark smile.

The women returned the smile with appraising looks of their own then continued down the sidewalk, turning back every now and then to see if Tony was still watching. With the tank filled, he popped the trunk and unzipped his gym bag, almost gagging at the overpowering scent of sweaty shorts, jersey and shoes. Quickly locating his wallet and cell, he winced at the number of missed calls and was only slightly relieved to find the caller had been McGee and not Gibbs. He paid the station attendant and pressed McGee's number on his speed dial.

"Talk to me, Probie," he said when the call was answered on the first ring.

"Where the hell have you been?" McGee replied sounding anxious.

"I have been sipping from the metaphoric cup of success, Probalicious, basking in the glow of conquest, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat."

"I've been calling you for almost an hour!"

"Chillax, McGrump and know this…there is _nothing_ you can say that will extinguish the euphoric feeling of victory that is currently surging through my veins."

"We've got two sailors down."

"Nothing except that," Tony replied as his shoulders slumped.

"They were found with a John Doe – one sailor and the John Doe are dead, the other sailor's in critical condition."

"This is supposed to be our weekend off. Where's Hamilton's team?"

"They got called to Quantico and needed the on-call team with them. We're already geared up and heading your way," McGee explained.

"You been tracking my phone, McGadget?" Tony asked.

"No, but I knew you were playing basketball in Richmond this morning," the younger man replied. "I was trying to call you so you could meet us at the crime scene."

"Where is it?"

"Bentley State Forest."

"That's only 15 minutes from here," Tony said.

"The rangers are on site and I'm sending the co-ordinates to your cell."

"So, Gibbs doesn't know…"

"That you broke rule number three? No, he's riding with Ducky. Better give Palmer a head's up - his cell is off and Ducky's not happy. As far as he and Gibbs know, you're on your way to the crime scene and we'll meet you there. You better get moving, we're only 20 minutes behind you."

"On my way; you're a good man, McCharlie Brown," Tony replied before ending the call.

He looked impatiently across the street to the drug store, frowning when he saw no sign of Palmer. Quickly unlocking the strong box in the trunk of the car, he shrugged into his shoulder holster and secured his weapon before clipping his badge to the waistband of his jeans and slipping his ID into his pocket. Closing the trunk, he flipped open his cell and tried Palmer's number, cursing when the recorded voice advised that the cell was switched off. He slipped back into his hoodie, fastening the zipper to conceal his Sig as he loped across the street to the drug store.

"Hey, Palmer!" he called as he walked through the door.

An ear-splitting sound filled the small store and an unseen weight shoved him painfully backwards stealing the air from his lungs. His shoulder erupted in agony as if it had been impaled with a red-hot poker and he stared in confusion as a dark stain rapidly discoloured his hoodie. Suddenly nauseous, the room spun sickeningly and he staggered two steps before his legs gave out. He fell heavily against a display unit, collapsing the shelves as he felt himself falling. His world went black before he hit the ground.

**0-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

**A/N Forgot to mention that many of the town names and the state forest are ficticious. Thanks for reading. L**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter Two**

Using the co-ordinates provided by the park rangers, Ziva and McGee arrived at the crime scene, immediately scanning the area for Tony's Mustang.

"Tony is not here," Ziva said unnecessarily.

"Dammit it," McGee cursed uncharacteristically. "He and Palmer should have been here twenty minutes ago."

Snatching up his cell he dialled Tony's number and huffed impatiently when the call went to message bank.

"Where the hell are you?" McGee asked, unable to hide his frustration. "Gibbs expected you to start processing the crime scene. If he gets here before you he'll know I've been covering for you and there'll be hell to pay. Just…call me!"

"I think you are over reacting, McGee. Gibbs is not an unreasonable man, we will simply explain that…" she watched as her partner raised a quizzical eyebrow and she nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, I see what you mean. Perhaps we will be lucky and Tony will arrive first."

They turned hopefully toward the sound of an approaching vehicle and exchanged an foreboding glance as the coroner's van rounded the corner to the clearing with Gibbs and Ducky aboard.

"Or maybe not," McGee muttered resignedly.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Sanjaya Kantaprawira flexed his throbbing fingers, attempting to shake the jolting pain from his bruised knuckles. He cursed as the pain ran the length of his arm and erupted in his side where a 9mm bullet had grazed him below the ribs and removed a sizeable chunk of flesh. In the small dispensary the pharmacist lay unconscious at his feet, his nose a mess of blood, broken bone and cartilage. At eye level, the door to the wall safe hung open, the previous day's takings not nearly as much cash as they needed.

A gunshot sounded from the main drug store area, followed by a resounding crash and Sanjaya rushed into the room brandishing his weapon wildly. Among the broken shelves and fallen items, a man lay bleeding and unmoving.

"What the hell happened?" Sanjaya yelled, pinning his partner with an accusing glare.

"I was watching him like you t-told me," Muluk Sastrowardoyo stuttered nervously as he pointed to Palmer. "That guy came through the door, s-startled me and the gun just went off."

Breaking free from the grip of his stuttering captor, Jimmy Palmer scrambled across the room to kneel beside his unconscious friend. Tentatively, he reached out a shaking hand and felt for the pulse point below Tony's jaw, almost overwhelmed with relief when he felt the strong beat beneath his fingers. He unzipped Tony's OSU hoodie to check his wound, unwittingly revealing the Sig and the shiny gold shield attached to the waistband of his jeans. Palmer yelped in surprise as he was grabbed from behind and thrown backwards.

"He's a cop!" Sanjaya said, quickly disarming the unconscious man and roughly patting him down to check for other weapons. "You shot a damn cop!"

"He's a federal agent," Jimmy spoke up as he crawled back to Tony's side. "And he's badly hurt."

Sanjaya paced anxiously, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and heavily pockmarked cheeks. He ran agitated fingers through his crown of plentiful black hair. 'Could this day get any worse?' he wondered. They had met with the two American sailors in the state forest and received the flash drive. Alam and one of the sailors had each produced a weapon and a firefight ensued. Now the two sailors and Alam were dead and he and Muluk were on the run with no money to get to Canada to deliver the flash drive as planned.

Arriving at a decision, he turned dark eyes to the others. Palmer was trying to rouse the injured agent, speaking softly as he called his name while using a large square dressing to keep pressure on the wound. He carefully slipped his hand under Tony's injured shoulder checking for an exit wound and sighed audibly when he realised there wasn't one - the bullet was still lodged deep in Tony's shoulder.

"Wake him up," Sanjaya ordered. "We're taking him with us."

"No!" Palmer protested. "Leave him here, please! He can't help you, he needs to get to a hospital."

Sanjaya stepped closer and aimed his gun at Tony's head.

"Wake him up or I'll kill him right here."

"If you take him, he could die," Palmer tried to reason.

"That's why you're coming with us, Doc. You're gonna keep him alive," Sanjaya replied with a predatory smile. "That is, until I decide it's time for you both to die."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

At the crime scene, Gibbs, Ziva, McGee and Ducky went about their work with their usual well-honed efficiency but each of them unconsciously cast frequent glances toward the trail as if expecting their absent team members to arrive at any moment.

Suppressing his concern, Ducky had commented that Palmer's lack of navigational skills had most likely caused the assistant ME and Tony to become lost in the maze of un-signposted fire trails that criss-crossed throughout the state forest. Gibbs nodded absently but his famous gut was starting to churn – Tony may give the impression of nonchalance but he took his job responsibilities very seriously. It was unlike the younger man to be out of reach when he knew the team had been assigned a case.

Ziva interviewed Park Ranger, Clint Morgan who had been patrolling the area when he heard several shots fired. As there had recently been a spate of out-of-season deer hunting, he radioed his position to the ranger station and drove to the clearing to investigate. He arrived to find the bodies of three men. He checked for signs of life and then called for emergency medical assistance. Locating the ID of Petty Officer Paul Leyton, he contacted his base station and made arrangements for NCIS to be notified. Leyton was subsequently airlifted to VCU by the Life Evac helicopter and was currently undergoing life-saving surgery.

"Call Vance," Gibbs told her. "I want a Marine guard on Leyton's hospital room until further notice. Whoever did this could try again."

Nodding her head in acknowledgement, Ziva made the call as Gibbs turned to McGee.

"What've you got?"

"ID agrees with the fingerprint scan, Boss, our dead sailor is Petty Office Jason Harvey. The Ford Explorer and the Beretta found near his body were both registered in his name. Harvey and Leyton served together on the USS Abraham Lincoln. I contacted their CO a…Captain Martin Harrow and set up an interview for later this afternoon."

"What about our John Doe?"

"Fingerprint scan was negative, Boss. Ranger Morgan searched the body for ID but he wasn't carrying any on him."

"I do wish they wouldn't do that," Ducky sighed, leaning over the dead civilian.

"What can you tell me, Duck?"

"Well, the tawny-coloured skin and black hair are consistent with Asian origin, however, note the moderately wide forehead. The nose is full and rather wide and the mouth is large. His upper jaw is somewhat prominent when seen in profile, sufficiently prominent to suggest that-"

"Today, Duck," Gibbs interrupted.

"Quite right, I am sorry," Ducky replied. "I would hazard a guess and say that this man is from the Asia Pacific region."

"Boss, the Abe Lincoln just returned from three months at sea in the Asia Pacific region, including several days in Indonesia where she acted as escort to a NATO diplomatic peace conference held in Sumatra."

"Scan his prints and send them to Abby," Gibbs said. "Have her run them through the Homeland Security database. If this guy is a migrant or entered the US on a visa, his prints will be on record at Homeland Security."

"Right, Boss," McGee replied as he kneeled beside the body and got to work.

"Gibbs," Ziva called. "There is more blood over here."

Gibbs walked to where Ziva was taking photos of a patch of bloodstained grass and he took a knee for a closer look.

"Not his blood," he said, nodding at the John Doe, "that shot would have dropped him where he stood."

"A wounded accomplice?" Ziva suggested as Ducky joined them.

"Hmm, a significant amount of blood loss but not life-threatening," he added. "The blood trail would suggest that our missing victim was ambulatory."

"Blood trail leads to tyre tracks, Gibbs. I will make a cast for Abby."

Gibbs continued the scan the ground.

"Two sets of footprints equals two accomplices," he stated.

When his thinly-veiled concern finally erupted in the form of anger, Gibbs found himself looking back toward the trail.

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?"

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0 **

Tony had woken to a world of pain; confusion and disorientation were written in a heavy hand across his pale face. Palmer's concerned and frightened expression was partially offset by the barely contained calmness in his voice as he quickly explained the situation. Tony's first thought was he needed to move. Upon attempting the action, the excruciating pain from his shoulder forced him to reconsider. With Palmer's help, he managed to get to a sitting position and years of training kicked in as he quickly conducted a threat-assessment and tried to get a read on their captors.

While Muluk backed their van to the alley in the rear, Palmer filled a bag with dressings and various other items. He handed the bag to the pock-faced Sanjaya who was aiming his gun menacingly at Tony's head. The contents met with the man's approval and when Muluk returned he ordered his partner to help get the agent to his feet so they could leave.

Getting Tony vertical provoked more agonising pain as he was roughly dragged to his feet. Although he gritted his teeth and, mostly, suffered in silence, every muscle in his body trembled as it reacted to the trauma and shock. He felt Palmer's arm around his waist helping to support his weight as they were led through the back of the pharmacy to the rear alley. Tony's feet staggered and stumbled along while his eyes glazed and drooped. Deep, gasping breaths emanated from the injured agent while his hoodie was dark with the stain of blood and perspiration. Step by step he forced one foot in front of the other, losing all sense of his surroundings as each jarring footfall sent a wave of pain through his body.

At the end of the alley, a van waited with the backdoors open. As they reached the vehicle a brutal shove in the back sent Tony pitching headlong into the van, producing a gutteral scream as he landed heavily on his injured shoulder. Palmer was quickly by his side, helping him to a seated position as Sanjaya climbed into the back of the van. Their captor's gun, trained unwaveringly at them, was a persuasive argument against trying to escape. Muluk slipped behind the wheel and guided the van out of town.

Tony was aware of the brusque conversation going on around him but lacked the concentration to make out the words. He barely noticed Palmer gently easing his injured shoulder from his hoodie and tearing his blood soaked t-shirt to access his wound. Removing a pair of sterilized rubber gloves from the bag, Palmer poured a liberal amount of Betadine antiseptic over Tony's shoulder causing the agent to writhe and hiss through tightly clenched teeth until the burning pain subsided to a tolerable level.

Taking a large roll of Celox gauze from the bag, Palmer spoke quietly to Tony as he worked, explaining that the gauze was coated with granules that absorb water from the blood and cause it to coagulate and stop bleeding. Instructing Tony to take a deep breath, Palmer did likewise as he packed the gauze as deeply into the wound as he could, allowing the clotting agent to stop any internal bleeding that was happening inside Tony's shoulder.

The process was bloody and excruciating and despite Tony's best efforts, several strangled cries tore from his throat and tested Palmer's own resolve. By the time the young med student had applied the last of the dressings, Tony's eyes were closing of their own accord and he could no longer fight the pain and exhaustion.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0 **

If Gibbs' gut was churning before, it was now spinning like a top. Something was definitely wrong and the former Marine intended to find out exactly what that something was.

"McGee!"

"Still not picking up, Boss," he responded anticipating the question.

"You're with me. Ziva, finish up here and you and Ducky take the bodies back to the Navy yard."

"Far be it from me to interfere, Jethro," Ducky began, "but Mr Palmer is my responsibility. If he and Anthony have met with some kind of trouble, I must insist that I accompany you to locate them."

Gibbs met his old friend's stubborn glare and nodded his head in agreement.

"Ziva, McGee, take the coroner's van back to Washington and find out what you can about Petty Officers Leyton and Harvey. Ducky you're with me."

Gibbs turned on his heel and strode purposely for the agency sedan leaving Ziva, McGee and Ducky exchanging bemused glances.

Without looking back, Gibbs snapped out an order coloured with a tinge of humour.

"Today, Mallard!"

"On your six, Boss," Ducky responded in kind as he dashed off after the lead agent.

Gibbs put the sedan into a controlled slide as they negotiated another sharp curve and headed back down the fire trail. He withdrew his cell from his jacket pocket and engaged his speed dial.

"You are on the air!" came the up beat reply.

"Abs, I need you to trace Tony's cell."

"Isn't he with you?"

"If he was with me, Abs, I wouldn't need the trace."

"But…it's been, like, almost two hours, Gibbs, and it's so not like Tony to be late," Abby replied, noting the deafening silence from the team leader. "Well, not on purpose, anyway…okay…_sometimes_ it's on purpose but, well, not very often."

"Abs!"

"Relax, Gibbs, I'm already running it. Sheesh, I'm a woman, remember? We multi-task."

"Multi-task faster!" Gibbs growled impatiently.

Abby's fingers flew over her keyboard as she accessed the program and narrowed the parameters.

"Okay, I've got something. The signal is coming from…approximately four miles south of Leafy Grove. It's not moving, Gibbs! Maybe they had car trouble, although Tony would have totally called you if they'd had car trouble. Oh my God, what if he couldn't call you? What if Tony and Palmer were involved in a car wreck?"

"Abs! Can you lock onto my signal and lead me in?"

"I'm locking on now," she replied. "You are 12.4 miles from Tony's location and should reach it in approximately ten minutes, probably less the way you drive, not that there's anything wrong with the way you drive, Gibbs, I'm just saying that-"

"Abs…they'll be fine," Gibbs said with a confidence he didn't feel. "Check with the sheriff's office and the local hospital. See if there've been any reports of an MVA involving a '66 Mustang?"

"On it," Abby replied unconsciously using a Tony-ism.

12.4 miles on, Gibbs brought the agency sedan to a halt with a screech of tyres and the smell of burning rubber. He and Ducky climbed from the car and scanned both sides of the road for signs of their missing team mates.

"Duck, call Tony's cell," Gibbs instructed.

His gut clenched painfully when Tony's ring tone sounded from the long grass. He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, placed the cell into an evidence bag and slipped it into his pocket as Abby came back onto the line.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!"

"I'm here, Abs," he replied. "Found his cell but there's no sign of DiNozzo."

"Tony's Mustang was found abandoned at a gas station in Leafy Grove. Tony loves that car Gibbs, he would never just abandon it!"

"Abs!"

"Wait, Gibbs, that's not all...the sheriff said that two hours ago, there was an armed robbery at a drug store located directly across the road from Tony's car."

"Tony and Palmer?"

"The sheriff doesn't know, but there were reports of gunfire and there's blood at the scene."

"On our way, Abs," Gibbs said, snapping his cell closed and jogging back to the car.

"Jethro, you don't suppose that Anthony and Mr Palmer somehow got mixed up in that robbery?" Ducky asked, holding on for dear life as the sedan lurched forward and sped toward town.

"Knowing DiNozzo's talent for finding trouble...that's exactly what I think."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

**A/N** Passed on your many prayers and good wishes to Liz. Obviously she hasn't much time to access the internet and thank you "personally" but she asked me to thank you from the bottom of her heart. Little Ethan had more surgery on Friday and doctors are hoping to wake him late Sunday. He's a little champion!

Thank you all for your amazing support, I hope you are enjoying the story, L


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter 3**

As news of the armed robbery spread around the sleepy town of Leafy Grove, curious residents gathered on the sidewalk. Looking to prove to the federal agents that they were dealing with a professional law enforcement officer, the town sheriff had cordoned off the drug store while the local doctor attended to the badly shaken pharmacist.

Parking the agency sedan out front, Gibbs and Ducky climbed from the vehicle and grabbed their gear from the trunk. Spotting Tony's Mustang still parked at the gas station, Gibbs crossed the street, reaching into his backpack for Tony's spare key ring. As he walked the length of the Mustang checking for damage or signs of foul play, Ducky did not fail to notice how the lead agent ran a gentle hand along the sleek lines of his agent's beloved vehicle. Moving to the rear, Gibbs inserted the key, opened the trunk and found the strong box empty.

"Tony was armed," he stated as Ducky drew alongside him.

A zipping sound was heard and both men reeled away from the trunk and the pungent odour.

"Good Lord, Jethro," Ducky gagged. "What in heaven's name is that frightful smell?

"Essence of DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a quirk of his lips. "Tony's gym shoes."

He took a breath and held it as he quickly looked through Tony's belongings, noting his agent's wallet, ID and badge were also missing. Re-zipping the gym bag he closed the trunk and called Abby, requesting recent photos of Tony and Palmer to be sent to his cell. Then, with Ducky in tow, he crossed the street to the drug store. Sheriff Milo Hansen saw their approach and strode out to meet them. After the introductions he proceeded to report his findings.

"I was attending a domestic dispute about ten miles out of town when I received a report of a shot fired at the drug store," the sheriff stated. "By the time I got back it was all over."

"Who placed the call?" Gibbs asked his eyes scanning the store for evidence.

The sheriff pointed with his chin toward two young women standing on the sidewalk clad in skimpy denim shorts and tank tops.

"Couple of local gals," he replied eyeing them with disdain. "Floozies, my sainted mother would call them. One thing's for sure, if I was their father, they wouldn't be leaving the house dressed like that."

"Sheriff," Gibbs interjected to get the man back on track.

"Right, well apparently the owner of that Mustang had spoken with them earlier and they came back hoping to hook up with him. I tell you, Agent Gibbs, the kind of loose morals being instilled into young people today, why I-"

"Sheriff!"

"Sorry," the sheriff stated, a little put out that he'd been interrupted twice. "They saw him walk into the drug store and they heard a gun shot."

"They see anything else? Type of car? Which way it headed?"

"Nope, but there's an alley out back - I figured that's how they got away."

Ducky's voice rang out from just inside the front door.

"Jethro, you should see this."

Gibbs led the sheriff into the store and moved to where Ducky was kneeling next to small pool of claret coloured blood and two discarded blood-soaked dressings.

"There's enough blood loss here to speculate that someone was shot, though not enough to tell us just how badly injured they were," the ME reported gravely.

"Gotta be Tony's," Gibbs said, his stomach twisting painfully.

"You can tell that by looking at it?" the sheriff asked in amazement.

"My agent shoots to kill. If he'd had time to get off a round, someone else would be dead," Gibbs said with certainty.

The sheriff led Gibbs to where the pharmacist was sitting quietly in the back sipping a cup of tea. Purplish crescents had already blossomed under both eyes and sticking plaster across the bridge of his nose held the badly deviated septum in place. When shown images of Tony and Palmer, the pharmacist identified the assistant ME as the young man who had entered his store to purchase a tube of Bengay. Before the purchase was complete, two men burst through the rear door calling for medical assistance. They claimed they had been hunting and one of them had been injured and needed help.

Palmer had told them that he was a medical student and had offered to help when the men produced weapons and demanded money. One of the men forced the pharmacist into the dispensary at gunpoint and made him open the wall safe. The man became livid when he found there was less than two hundred dollars cash and he struck the pharmacist rendering him unconscious. By the time he regained consciousness, the men had departed and the store was empty.

"Can you describe these men?" Gibbs asked.

"Young, no more than 30, dark hair and eyes, both were definitely Asian, Filipino perhaps."

"Indonesian?" Gibbs asked exchanging a knowing look with Ducky.

"Maybe," the pharmacist replied.

"You have CCTV?"

"Yes, but it won't do you much good. You see, except for the occasional case of shoplifting, I've had no need for it. I haven't changed the tape in over a year."

Gibbs took possession of the tape, certain that Abby and McGee could clean up the resolution if need be. With McGee and Ziva already on their way back to Washington, Gibbs needed to quickly process the rest of the scene.

"Could use your help here, Duck," he said. "You know your way around a camera?"

"Of course, Jethro," the ME replied with an affronted huff. "I am a man of science after all. In fact, during my time at Eton I was president of the photography club for several years. These were highly intricate pieces of photographic equipment, mind you, not these foolproof point-and-shoot cameras you and your team seem to prefer. Yes, I believe I am more than qualified to assist in this regard."

Ducky took the camera from Gibbs' hands, pulling it toward him and accidentally engaging the shutter button. The flash scintillated rapidly in a blinding strobe light effect.

"Oh, oh my," Ducky exclaimed, blinking owlishly to counter the spots before his eyes.

"Problem?" Gibbs replied innocently.

"For pity's sake, Jethro, you could have warned me that these cameras are a tad more sensitive than the older models."

This time Gibbs didn't bother to hide his grin.

"And what, may I ask, is so humorous?"

"Nothing, Duck," Gibbs said, as he headed off to dust for prints. "Just glad I didn't hand you my weapon."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00ooo—oo00oo-0**

Tony moaned low in his throat. His eyelids flickered with the movement beneath them but remained closed. His brow furrowed as he tried to identify a persistent buzzing sound.

"Tony? Tony, can you hear me? Open your eyes."

At first the noise was far away, not even an irritation, but slowly, as Tony reluctantly crept out of the warm darkness, the urgency of the voice drew him forward into harsh reality.

"Come on, DiNozzo, if you can make a 24-foot 3-pointer right on the buzzer, you can open your eyes for me!" Jimmy challenged. "Okay…I'll settle for one eye."

Tony licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"Was 26 feet," he mumbled, bringing a smile of relief to the assistant ME's face.

With another groan Tony slowly opened his eyes. The world around him rippled like the expanding waves in a pond disturbed by a tossed pebble and he blinked rapidly to bring his eyes into focus. He gradually became aware of the rocking motion beneath him and as his memory returned with the force of a tidal wave, he lurched forward into an upright sitting position.

"Tony, no!" Palmer warned too late as agony speared through the agent's shoulder and neck. He clamped his teeth together, cutting off the cry already beginning to escape.

"Don't move!" a voice bellowed from the front of the van.

Sanjaya's dark eyes watched them intently from the passenger seat, the ever-present gun tracking their every move.

Allowing Palmer to assist him, Tony rested his back against the side of the van, strangling another moan. He closed his eyes again, taking a moment to allow his breathing to return to normal.

"How long?" Tony asked through clenched teeth.

"About fifteen minutes," Jimmy replied. "You passed out."

"DiNozzo's do _not_ pass out."

"Well then, you fainted."

Tony laughed humourlessly.

"Palmer…if DiNozzo's don't pass out, then they sure as hell don't faint."

"You were unconscious, Tony…what would you call it."

"I was resting my eyes," Tony replied indignantly, before looking at his blood soaked hoodie. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough," Palmer replied truthfully. "The bullet's still lodged in your shoulder. Even if I had the instruments I doubt I could remove it without damaging the nerves and tendons. You need to be in a hospital, Tony."

Tony nodded, glancing up at Palmer for the first time and noticing the younger man's split lip and bruised cheek.

"What the hell happened?" he hissed.

"I was cleaning and dressing that guy's wound," he said indicating Sanjaya. "The van hit a pothole and he hit me…several times in fact."

Jimmy grinned then winced as the self-effacing smile tugged at his injured lip.

"Sonuvabitch!" Tony spat angrily. "Wait…what kind of wound?"

"He's got a minor bullet abrasion under the ribs," Jimmy relied.

"He's been shot?"

"He claimed it was a hunting accident but that wound was definitely from a handgun," Jimmy stated. "It could use a few sutures but it's not bad."

Tony nodded absently, tucking the information away for future use as he wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and placed the palm of his hand against his friend's forehead, only to have the agent bat it away irritably.

"You're very hot," Jimmy stated.

"And you're adorkable, Palmer, but you're not my type," Tony quipped.

"Could be shock or blood loss but you're running a fever."

"Well, there is the little matter of the bullet in my shoulder," the agent replied testily, feeling a pang of guilt as Palmer dropped his eyes. "I'm fine, Palmer, it's hot in here."

"Not that hot," Palmer muttered under his breath.

For the next few minutes, Tony watched their captors talking quietly among themselves, noting the tense body language and sharp, anxious tone of their voices. He pursed his lips in thought and leaned forward to speak quietly to Palmer.

"Two sailors and a John Doe were shot in Bentley state forest - that's only 15 from where we stopped for gas."

"You think these guys were involved?"

"Gibbs isn't the only one who doesn't believe in coincidences," Tony replied. "We were supposed to meet the others at the crime scene."

Palmer's eyes widened as a thought occurred.

"Wait…so that means…"

"The cavalry's on the way, Palmer," Tony said quietly. "Guess it's too much to hope that they kept our cells?"

"They threw them out the window a ways back."

"Damn. You hear what they've been talking about up there?"

"Money. They got less than $200 from the drug store and they need more," Jimmy replied. "Tony, you think Doctor Mallard and Agent Gibbs know what happened to us?"

"When we don't turn up at the crime scene, they'll start looking."

"Do you think they'll find us?"

"I'd count on it, Palmer," Tony said leaning his head back and closing his eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

With the scene at the drug store processed and interviews completed, Ducky took the wheel of the agency sedan while Gibbs drove Tony's Mustang back to the Navy yard. The lead agent snatched up his cell and reflexively keyed Tony's speed dial number to request an update. Cursing silently, he shook his head irritably, ended the call and tossed his cell onto the passenger seat with more force than was necessary.

"Dammit, DiNozzo," he sighed.

The younger man had been a constant in his life for over ten years and it was difficult for Gibbs to imagine life without DiNozzo in it - though it would certainly be a lot quieter. He wondered whether this feeling was like losing a limb; even when you know it's gone it feels like it's still there. Very few people in his life had made as concerted and consistent an effort to puncture holes in his personal armour as Tony had - even fewer had been successful. The former detective had barged in where few had dared to tread and they had formed a partnership and a friendship that was as steadfast as it was unlikely.

Rage, helplessness and fear for Tony and Palmer surged inside him and he ruthlessly suppressed the strong emotions knowing he would call on them when the time was right.

Arriving back at the office, Ducky headed to Autopsy while Gibbs took the evidence to Abby's lab. He was not surprised to find Ziva and McGee already there, lending support to their frantic forensic scientist.

"What have we got?" he asked as he strode into the cavernous room.

"Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug and squeezing tightly before stepping back to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here, Abs."

"No, no! Ducky had to come back to do the autopsies but you were supposed to keep looking for Tony and Jimmy."

"Whoever's got them has a two hour head start on us, Abs. We don't know the direction they went or what vehicle they're in. Our best chance of finding them is to work the leads we have," he explained. He placed the sealed evidence bags on the workbench and handed her the one with the blood stained dressings. "Need a blood analysis on this ASAP."

Abby gasped loudly and took a step backward as her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Please, Gibbs, _please_ tell me this doesn't belong to Tony or Palmer."

"That's what we need to know," he replied quietly.

"Gibbs?" Abby closed her eyes against the swell of tears that, in spite of the barrier, tracked a trail of mascara down her pale cheeks.

The lead agent placed an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss into her hair.

"It could be Tony's," he said feeling his gut tighten with the admission.

"Tony was hurt?" McGee asked as Gibbs handed him the CCTV tape from the drug store.

"He may have been shot but we can't see crap on the tape. Clean it up," Gibbs instructed the younger man. "You spoke to the CO of the Abe Lincoln?"

"About 30 minutes ago, Boss," McGee nodded. "As we know the Abe Lincoln recently travelled to Indonesia as escort at a NATO diplomatic peace conference in Sumatra. Captain Harrow said all went according to plan. He claimed that Leyton and Harvey were both exceptional sailors. In fact, he had recently completed their annual evals and had signed off on their promotions to Petty Officer 1st Class."

"They get shore leave while they were in Sumatra?"

"Leyton and Harvey were among eight hundred sailors that had 48 hours shore leave in Sumatra."

"Get to work on that tape and let me know when you have something," Gibbs replied. "Ziva?"

"As McGee said, the service records for Leyton and Harvey are exemplary. Petty Officer Paul Leyton has been married for four years and is expecting his first child this spring. Petty Officer Jason Harvey was married and has three small children. Their financial records show no unusual activity."

"Any news from the hospital on Leyton's condition?"

"The hospital said they would call when we were able to speak with him," Ziva replied receiving a pointed look from the former Marine. "I will call them again now."

"Abs, you get anything on the fingerprints of our Joe Doe?"

"I did, and he's no longer a John Doe," Abby replied, typing a command into her computer and watching as a photo appeared on the large plasma. "According to Homeland Security he is Alam Bhaskara, a twenty-five year old Indonesian national who arrived on a humanitarian visa and has resided in Virginia since February 2005."

"That's it?"

"That's all I could get, Gibbs, every time I tried to access his background information, somebody blocked me."

"Who?"

"Homeland Security," Director Vance replied as he walked through the door of the lab and stood next to Gibbs at the plasma. "I just received a priority call from Assistant Director Morrow. Homeland Security got a heads up from Public Safety Canada who have had Padang Barhalo under close surveillance for some time."

"Padang Barhalo?" Gibbs frowned then his expression hardened as he recalled the name. "The Jemaah Islamiyah terrorist?"

Vance nodded. "Masterminded the bombing of a hotel in Sumatra that killed 67 foreign tourists and then disappeared without a trace. Many believed he was killed in the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami."

"What the hell is he doing in Canada?" Gibbs asked.

"Many countries accepted humanitarian refugees from south east asia after the tsunami. The majority of these people had no documents and hundreds of thousands of government records were lost. Protection agencies did all they could to verify identities but obviously some unfriendlies slipped through the net."

"How'd they find him?"

"The Canadians received some valuable intel six months ago and have been watching his every move. So far, he hasn't made contact with anyone suspicious or remotely contacted with JI."

"Until now."

"Correct," Vance replied. "Forty-eight hours ago, Barhalo transferred $20k to the account of your former John Doe. The Canadians are still tracing the origin of those funds but it hasn't been accessed – it's still in Bhaskara's account?"

"Could be why they tried to rob the drug store – with Bhaskara dead they have no access to the funds."

"Jemaah Islamiyah shifted its attention to targeting the US and our allies at the start of the war on terror. But why would they single out a couple of US Navy petty officers?" Vance asked.

"Leyton and Harvey were recently in Indonesia. Could've been given something to deliver to Bhaskara," Gibbs speculated.

"Any ideas of what that could be?"

"Not yet."

"Find out – fast," Vance instructed. "These men wouldn't have counted on being cut off from the money - they'll be desperate and all the more dangerous."

"Something else they didn't count on," Gibbs said.

"What's that?"

"DiNozzo."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Sitting across from Tony in the back of the van, Jimmy Palmer had to admit that he was scared – for his life and for his friend. Despite protests to the contrary, Tony's face was ashen and his eyes spoke of the pain he tried to deny. The sight and smell of blood was an accepted part of his profession but the sight and smell of a friend's blood was a memory Palmer was sure he would never forget. He forced his features into a mask of neutrality; if he knew Tony, the agent was already working on a way for them to escape and the sight of his fear wouldn't help Tony stay strong.

DiNozzo remained quiet, suppressing his exhaustion and pain while keeping his focus on the passing scenery. His eyes narrowed then widened slightly as he thought he recognised a familiar landmark.

Momentarily the van came to a stop and he and Palmer were ordered out. Tony wavered slightly on his feet before regaining his equilibrium as he and Palmer were led toward a small cabin. Palmer's hopes rose slightly as Tony took in the surrounding area.

"You know where we are?" he whispered.

"Think so," Tony replied with a sharp nod of his head.

Palmer cried out as Sanjaya grabbed a fistful of his hair and cruelly shoved the barrel of his gun against the young man's temple.

"Hey!" Tony yelled, stiffening his body instinctually and preparing for a fight he had no hope of winning.

"No whispering," Sanjaya hissed, shoving Palmer forward and throwing an venomous glare in Tony's direction.

They walked through the inside of the cabin to what looked like the rear door but instead of an exit, another smaller room had been adjoined. The smaller room had compacted dirt floors, cement walls and only one small barred window located nine feet from the floor. Empty flour sacks had been strewn haphazardly on the floor.

"Oh, I love what you've done with the place!" Tony quipped.

"You would be wise to keep silent," Sanjaya replied menacingly.

"See, that's something I've never been good at!" the agent replied. "Besides, we specifically requested a room with ocean views."

A powerful blow struck him low in the back and sent him staggering into the small room with Palmer stumbling behind him. As the door slammed shut with a resounding bang, Tony lost his footing and landed heavily on his knees. The impact speared agonising pain through his entire body and a strangled scream escaped his lips before he could stop it. As his vision greyed, Palmer was at his side; his worried face wavering in and out of view. He made a valiant effort to push back the blackness but as it overwhelmed him he had time for only one thought – 'Now would be good, Boss.'

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-0 **

**A/N **Oops, these chapters are gradually getting less Liz-sized and more Laine-sized - apologies.

Many, many, many thanks for your wonderful offers of gifts, donations, prayers and good thoughts for Ethan - the FFnet "family"at its finest.

All offers were received with grateful tears from Ethan's lovely Mum, Liz, however, her reply to me was - "please tell everyone how grateful I am and ask them to give their kids an extra special hug or buy a small gift and place it under their local "Wishing Tree" for underprivileged or seriously ill children."

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for your overwhelming support, L


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter 4**

The glass doors slid open as the lead agent approached, allowing Gibbs access to the sub-ground level Autopsy room. Apart for the dim glow of a few safety lights, the large room was in darkness. Frowning, he turned to leave and spotted the chief medical examiner sitting at his desk absently swirling a glass of single malt whisky in his hand.

"Prior to receiving a fatal gunshot wound to the thoracic cavity, Petty Officer Jason Harvey was in excellent physical condition," Ducky reported in a flat tone with none of his usual fervour.

"Duck."

"The bullet deflected off the sixth rib and caused catastrophic injury to the right ventricle and atrium. His death would have been mercifully quick. I've sent to bullet to Abigail."

Gibbs rounded the desk, removed a second glass from the drawer and poured himself a drink. He sat across from his old friend and threw back a deep swig, enjoying the burning sensation as the liquid travelled to his abdomen. As Gibbs offered his silent support to the clearly troubled doctor, Ducky continued his report.

"As we now know, our John Doe is Alam Bhaskara," Ducky said. "Mr Bhaskara met his demise when a round from a Petty Officer Harvey's Beretta struck him in the throat at great velocity, severing his inner jugular and his carotid artery. He suffered massive and rapid blood loss and would have bled out in moments. I will have my written report on your desk within the hour."

Gibbs nodded, noting the deep lines of concern forming at the corners of the doctor's eyes and mouth.

"You okay, Duck?"

"I'm assuming you have spoken with Abigail?" the ME asked.

"She confirmed the blood at the scene was Tony's," Gibbs replied flatly.

"Then you understand why I am beside myself with worry for our young men," Ducky replied, taking a few deep breaths and rubbing his tired eyes. "Mr Palmer's fiancé, Breena, has left several messages on my voice mail regarding the whereabouts of her betrothed. What on earth am I going to tell the dear girl?"

"Tell her the truth. Tell her we're looking for them and we'll bring 'em home."

"First Gerald and now Mr Palmer – I'm not sure I can cope with losing another assistant, Jethro."

"He'll be fine, Duck. Tony's with him."

"You just said yourself, the blood found at the scene is Anthony's. He could be badly injured."

"My money's still on DiNozzo," Gibbs replied confidently. "If there's a way out, Tony will find it."

"And what about Mr Palmer?" Ducky asked. "The boy is a medical student, he is not trained for these situations."

"A few years back, Palmer showed a lot of courage in a tough situation," Gibbs stated.

Ducky nodded slowly, then looked at Gibbs with anguish and concern evident in his eyes.

"Anthony has been in some frightful situations over the years and I've witnessed you move heaven and earth to bring him home safely," Ducky said.

"No one gets left behind, Duck."

"That's true of course, however, when that someone is Anthony, it is strikingly obvious that there is much more than your Marine honour that drives you."

Never one to speak openly about his feelings, Gibbs quirked a smile at his old friend in silent agreement.

"However, it wasn't until young Mr Palmer went missing that I truly understood the anguish one feels when one is faced with losing someone they care deeply about."

The shrill of Gibbs' cell disturbed the sombre conversation. With a shrug of apology, Gibbs took the call, listening for a moment before snapping the cell shut.

"That was McGee; he's cleaned up the tape from the drug store. Need you to look at the tape, Duck, tell me how bad Tony's injured."

As the two men stood and moved toward the elevator, Gibbs clapped a hand on the older man's back.

"We'll find 'em Duck."

They joined Abby, Ziva and McGee in the forensic lab where McGee explained that although they were able to clean up the resolution slightly, the vision remained grainy and shadowy.

"Let's see it," Gibbs ordered.

They watched the poor quality tape, squinting as if the gesture would bring greater clarity. Although the images weren't clear enough to run facial recognition programs on the armed men, they had no trouble determining each party by their position and physique.

Abby stifled a scream as Tony stepped through the front door of the drug store and was immediately gunned down.

"He never stood a chance," Ziva said solemnly, frowning in irritation at her ringing cell then stepping aside to take the call.

"Duck?" Gibbs asked, unable to take his eyes off the image of his injured agent lying unmoving on the floor.

"Judging from the angle, I would estimate that Anthony was hit high in the right shoulder in the vicinity of the clavicle."

"Never found a bullet. Must've lodged in his shoulder," Gibbs added. "What are we looking at?"

"Well, apart from the obvious pain, there's the risk of shock, loss of blood, the onset of infection or septicaemia. Anyone of these symptoms is very serious indeed."

"There's no way Tony's going to be able to use his arm," McGee said.

"Don't need him to use his arm, McGee," Gibbs replied. "Need him to use his head and buy us some time. Keep working on that tape, we need to know who we're up against."

"Boss, I'm not sure we're going to get it any better than it is now…but…I'll keep trying," he said, correctly interpreting the team leader's pointed look.

"Gibbs," Ziva said walking back to the group. "That was the VCU Medical Centre. Petty Officer Leyton has regained consciousness."

"You're with me," Gibbs replied heading for the door.

"Find them, Jethro," Ducky called after him.

"Working on it, Duck."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0 **

After making yet another circuit of the small room, Palmer leaned against the wall and allowed his body to slide downward until he was seated on the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest and cast his eyes to the window above, noticing the darkening sky. Concern and tension had taken its toll and he felt completely drained. He could occasionally hear voices and the movement of their captors from the other rooms. Although they did not speak in English, the volume and tone told him that they were arguing about something - Jimmy hoped it wasn't how best to dispose of their hostages.

Awareness had come slowly for Tony but not the pain. One minute he was drifting, trying to discern what noises he was hearing and the next he'd been hit with the throbbing pain from his injured shoulder. His eyes fluttered open to find that Palmer had secured his arm across his chest and then zipped it inside his hoodie to immobilise it.

He lay staring at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts. Who the hell were these guys and what had happened in the state forest? A meet had gone wrong, obviously, but what kind of meet was it - what was exchanged? Not money or there'd be no need to rob the drug store. He'd seen no evidence of drugs or weapons? Everything about their captors said amateur. From the panic and the arguing, Tony would bet McGee's paycheck that the John Doe killed at the state forest was the man calling the shots.

If these guys had been professionals, he and Palmer would be back at the drug store with bullets in their heads. The need to rob the drug store told him that they had been cut off from their money. The fact that there were no blindfolds, no attempt to disguise their identity, told Tony that they would most likely be killed when they were of no further use. It all smelled of desperation and while that made them dangerously unpredictable, it was also something that Tony could work to his advantage.

Despite their bleak situation, Tony was certain of one thing – Gibbs. He knew the former Marine would leave no stone unturned until he found them and he understood that his job was to keep Palmer safe and to play for time. He was determined to do just that.

"You're awake," Palmer said, moving to Tony's side. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Palmer," Tony lied. "Help me up."

After a few false starts – each punctuated by colourful curses – Palmer helped Tony into a sitting position where he dragged his fiercely protesting body against the wall.

"They gave us some water," the young ME said. "You really should drink some."

"Maybe later" Tony whispered, his eyes closed.

"You have to drink, Tony," Palmer insisted. "First rule of survival. Whenever food or water presents itself, you take it."

Tony's eyes flickered open, rippled with pain and misery and dilated almost enough to hide the colour.

"You've been watching Bear Grylls again haven't you?" he quipped accepting the bottle of water and savouring the feel of the cool fluid.

With Palmer now sitting beside him, Tony took a better look at their temporary prison. The window was barred and offered no chance of escape while the door looked solid with its hinges on the outside. A small viewing window had been carved out of the door, allowing their captors to peer in at them.

"Not exactly the Ritz-Carlton," Palmer commented. "Lucky for me I thought to use the rest room at the gas station right before this happened. It would be awful to sit here thinking how much you wanted to relieve yourself."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for that Palmer, now I cant think of anything else," he replied irritably.

"Oh, sorry…but at least it took your mind off your shoulder."

The viewing window slid open and a pair of dark eyes glared at them from the other side. A moment later the door opened and Sanjaya and Muluk entered, placing a single wooden chair in the centre of the room.

"Decorating?" Tony asked. "I'm no Martha Stewart but it's gonna take a little more than a chair to add that homely feel."

Ignoring the sarcastic comment, the two men grabbed Jimmy roughly and dragged him to the chair. Muluk grabbed a fistful of Jimmy's hair and bent his head back painfully while Sanjaya examined the contents of Palmer's wallet.

"Where is your money?" he snapped.

"That's…that's all I have," he said. "Sixty dollars."

"Where are your ATM and credit cards?"

"Oh, my fiancé has them. You see, I'm getting married soon and we're trying to save for an apartment. I gave her my cards so I wouldn't be tempted-"

Furious, Sanjaya struck Palmer across the face, the force of the stinging blow almost knocking him from the chair.

"Leave him alone, he's telling you the truth," Tony said, feeling the rage building in his gut.

Sanjaya turned toward him, his eyes blazing. With a nod to Muluk, Palmer was thrown to the floor and the men dragged Tony to the chair in his place. As Tony gritted his teeth through the pain and tried to calm his breathing, Sanjaya explored the contents of Tony's wallet.

"I have ten free movie hires on my Blockbusters card; let us go and they're yours, no questions asked," Tony offered as Muluk grabbed him painfully by the neck.

"I don't like your sense of humour," he hissed in the agent's face.

"I get that a lot," Tony grimaced.

He watched as Sanjaya pocketed the cash and held Tony's ATM card inches from his face.

"Let me guess, you're having a cash flow problem," Tony said. "That's what happens when the guy with access to all the cash gets popped."

The men traded surprised glances.

"What? You didn't think we knew about your little shoot out at Bentley State Forest?" Tony continued. "Let me put it this way…right about now, every law enforcement officer on the east coast is on the lookout for you."

'_This is gonna hurt'_ was all Tony had the time to think before the powerful blow smashed into his unprotected abdomen. He sat bent over, his eyes screwed shut while he tried to drag air into his straining lungs. After a long moment, he forced his body to sit up.

"Maybe I should put it another way…" he gasped.

"Give me your PIN?" Sanjaya interrupted fiercely.

"Do the words 'cold day' and 'hell' ring any bells for you?"

Sanjaya smiled predatorily then pressed down hard on Tony's wounded shoulder, eliciting a scream of pain from the injured man. When the red-mist cleared from Tony's vision, he saw Sanjaya's gun barrel resting against Palmer's head.

"Give me your PIN or he dies."

Tony met Sanjaya's glare with equal intensity, the two men locked in a wordless battle until the Indonesian's finger tightened around the trigger.

"Okay!" Tony answered hastily. "Okay…I'll tell you…put the gun down."

With a resigned sigh, Tony gave up the PIN. Muluk whipped the chair from beneath the wounded man, pitching him to the floor as they left the room and locked the door behind them.

"This is turning into a really bad day," Tony muttered as Palmer fussed and checked his wound.

"You know he's going to drain your account," Jimmy said.

"I'm…I'm counting on it," Tony panted.

"You are? I don't understand."

"Gibbs will be…looking for us. McGee or Abby will be tracing our cells and monitoring our accounts," he took a moment to catch his breath. "Hopefully they'll use an ATM with a security camera; Abby can get an ID and that'll help them find us."

"Huh…that's good thinking."

"Didn't get this job because of my smile, Palmer…actually, I did…but not _just_ because of my smile."

"So you were going to give him your PIN all along."

"Yep."

"But you let him hurt you."

"Couldn't make it look too easy. He might've realised that I wanted him to do it."

"I can't decide whether that's incredibly brave or incredibly stupid."

"Now you're channelling Gibbs."

"Ah…Tony? There's just one thing," Jimmy said.

"What?"

"Next time…can you give him your PIN before he holds a gun to my head?" Palmer said with the hint of a smile.

"Deal."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Watching the videotape over and over, McGee couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be the last sight he ever had of Tony DiNozzo and Jimmy Palmer. Was this to be his last memory of his senior field agent; would it overwhelm and overwrite all others and burn into his memory only to wake him in the middle of the night?

Was he never again going to hear Tony calling him Probie; see him launch a perfectly directed spit-ball across the bullpen or zero on that seemingly insignificant detail that opened up a whole new lead in an investigation? Would this grainy black and white image from a drug store security camera, showing Tony gunned down in cold blood be the image that his mind conjured every time he thought of Tony from now on?

He and Abby had watched it over and over, trying to enhance the clarity or to find something that would help; some miraculous clue that would tell them where Tony and Jimmy had been taken - but there was nothing. There was just Tony walking into the drug store, flashing that trademark smile then staggering suddenly as some unseen force impacted high on his chest. At first, he just stood there, looking surprised and confused with his mouth opened slightly as the pain overwhelmed him and his legs refused to bear his weight. He fell back into a display unit, upsetting the shelves as he fell to the ground and didn't move.

That was the part that Abby couldn't watch. Each time, she would turn to him and bury her head in the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Absently, he rubbed his hand in soothing circles on her back as he continued to examine the tape.

However many times they watched it, the result was the same. Palmer was dragged away as one of the unknown assailants stripped Tony of his weapons. Then Palmer was back, attempting to stop the bleeding by applying pressure to Tony's wound while the others looked agitated and panicked. Moments later, the men had heaved Tony to his feet and dragged him from the store.

As McGee leaned forward to rewind the tape again a strong hand caught his wrist and held it.

"Enough, Timothy," Ducky said firmly as he reached forward and switched off the machine.

McGee blinked at him owlishly.

"Ducky, there may be something…"

"There is _nothing_," the ME said definitively. "If there was anything to be found, you would have seen it by now. This is no time for you to second guess yourself."

"You're right," McGee said, dropping his shoulders.

"Would I be correct in assuming that neither of you have eaten?"

Abby and McGee exchanged guilty glances.

"Just as I thought," Ducky replied. "Depriving ourselves of nourishment is not helping Anthony or Mister Palmer. We must be at our best and brightest so we can find them and bring them home. Come, let's order in a late supper."

When Abby and McGee seemed reluctant to leave, the doctor sighed audibly and added wistfully.

"Truth be told, I find myself rather in need of the kind of reassurance one only receives from the company of family."

Abby was the first to recover from the older man's rare admission and she forced a smile onto her face.

"Then, Duckman, our company you shall have," she said as she linked her arm through his and walked them toward the door.

McGee watched them leave, his professional detachment warring with his need to provide and receive friendship and support. He quickly realised that Ducky was right; they may not be flesh and blood but in every way that mattered they were a family. He engaged the call forward to his cell and hurried after them.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

Ziva and Gibbs stood at the side of Petty Officer Paul Leyton's hospital bed, opposite an array of equipment monitoring his vitals and dispensing life-saving medication. Despite the medication his ashen pallor and dull eyes spoke of the pain he was in and an overprotective nurse loitered in the doorway ready to shoo the agents away if her patient became too distressed.

Leyton relayed the entire story, telling how his wife had recently told him that they were expecting their first child. He and Harvey had planned a night of celebration on their first shore leave in three months. They were at a bar and had already consumed a lot of alcohol when two women approached and asked to join them. The following morning, he and Leyton woke up in bed with the women in a sleazy hotel and had no memory of what had happened.

"Excessive alcohol can sometimes cause memory loss, Petty Officer," Ziva said.

"Maybe to one of us, Ma'am but not to both. Neither Jason or I could remember leaving that bar or anything else until we woke up. We had to be drugged."

"Perhaps, but it is not uncommon for a man to have too much to drink and then desire sex with a woman."

Leyton cast pleading eyes in Gibbs' direction.

"I am hopelessly in love with my wife, Sir. We've been trying for a baby for three years. No amount of alcohol would make me betray her trust."

"I believe you, Leyton," Gibbs replied, his gut telling him this young man was telling the truth. "What happened next?"

The petty officer continued explaining how four men walked into their hotel room and told them that the women were under age Muslims girls. They threatened to have the sailors arrested telling them that they would be jailed and would face the death penalty. After several hours, the sailors were told that there would be no charges laid if they agreed to deliver a flash drive to a contact in the US.

"Did you not think to report this to your commanding officer?" Ziva asked.

"These men had our ID's, Ma'am, they knew who we were and where we lived. They threatened the lives of our families if we didn't co-operate."

"How'd you contact them?" Gibbs asked.

"They gave us a burn phone and they called us with a time and place."

"Still got the cell?"

"No, Sir, they asked for it and the flash drive at the exchange."

"Did you or Petty Officer Harvey look at the flash drive before you gave it back?" Ziva asked.

"We did, Ma'am. The morning of the exchange we went to an internet café downtown. We wanted to know what we were handing over. It looked like some kind of list but it was written in another language. We couldn't read it."

"And when you gave them the cell and the flash drive?" Gibbs asked.

"That's when all hell broke loose."

Leyton gave Gibbs the location of the internet café and the computer they'd used. Gibbs flipped open his cell, ignoring the icy look from the hawk-eyed nurse, and called Abby on speed dial.

"I swear, Gibbs, you're, like, totally freakishly psychic! I was just about to call you."

"Watchya got Abs?"

"Someone just activated Tony's savings account."

"Where?" Gibbs asked.

"A remote ATM at a 7/11 in Sandston Virginia, that's only about ten minutes from your location."

"Contact the local LEO's," Gibbs said, signalling Ziva to follow as he loped toward the elevator. "Tell them to get someone there now."

"McGee's already called them, Gibbs, they're on their way," Abby replied.

Ten minutes later Gibbs fishtailed the agency sedan into the parking lot of the Sandston 7/11, screeching to a halt beside a Sussex County Sheriff's patrol car. He and Ziva climbed from the car, hoping to get their first real break on this case but the apprehensive expression on the local LEO's face dashed their hopes immediately.

The deputy shrugged apologetically as he explained that the suspect was gone by the time he'd arrived. However, he had ensured that no one else had used the ATM. Gibbs felt his gut twist painfully as he and Ziva grabbed their gear from the trunk.

"Gibbs, this man knew Tony's PIN. This proves he is alive, yes?" Ziva said.

"Only proves he was alive when he gave it to him."

"We will find them," Ziva said confidently as she carried the equipment to the ATM.

Gibbs shook his head and allowed a wry smile to tease the corner of his mouth. Although he still had no idea where his agent was being held, he was buoyed by the fact that, even injured, Tony was doing exactly what Gibbs needed him to do – he was using his head and buying some time knowing that the former Marine would do everything he could to find him. As he joined Ziva at the ATM to dust for prints, he made a silent vow_: -_

'_Hold on, Tony, I'm coming for you.'_

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-0**

**A/N The value of your reviews is something I never take for granted and I have always endeavoured to answer each one, with the exception of anon reviews. Though my thanks were a little tardy this week, please know that they were just as sincere. **

**I hope you enjoy it. ****Thank you for reading and for your kind support. L**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A/N In writing this chapter, I encountered great difficulty "getting inside the heads" of my terrorist characters. Though possessed of a fairly vivid imagination I could not and still cannot begin to fathom their thought processes. I resorted to researching various terrorists and the dialogue attributed to Muluk and Sanjaya is loosely based on quotes from real Jemaah Islamiyah terrorists. L **

**A Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter 5**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs' high dependence on caffeine was folklore within the ranks of NCIS. But the fresh air and the opportunity to refocus and gather his thoughts on the well-travelled path to and from the coffee shop, proved to be of much greater value.

He adjusted the collar of his jacket against the damp night air and wrapped both hands around the steaming Styrofoam cup. The former Marine cursed softly under his breath as fear for his agent and the young ME assistant wrapped icy tendrils around his heart and squeezed tightly.

Gibbs and Vance had spent the last hour in MTAC, locking horns with Homeland Security, the CIA and the FBI regarding jurisdiction of the case. Due to their missing colleagues, NCIS narrowly won the first round but Gibbs had no doubt that the sharks were circling and their respite was temporary.

Ziva and McGee had presented a warrant to the puzzled owner of Java Joe's Internet Café before seizing the hard drive of the computer used by the petty officers earlier that morning. An NCIS Intel Analyst for the Asia Pacific region was standing by to translate any data procured.

Ducky kept himself busy assisting Abby in the lab as they processed the evidence from the ATM and ran a series of toxicology tests. Their mutual love of science thinly shielded them from the overwhelming concern for their friends.

Although he seldom, if ever, openly expressed his pride in his team's achievements, it was no accident that his MCRT had the best closure rate in the agency. His team defied logic and their personalities were as diverse as their backgrounds and specialties. The marine, the cop, the assassin and the computer specialist - it was a mix that shouldn't work…and yet, it did. And when one of them was missing or in trouble, the others worked tirelessly to find them and bring them safely home. Far too often, the agent missing or in trouble was DiNozzo.

Shortly after Tony arrived from Baltimore it became apparent that the younger man thrived on pushing the boundaries of Gibbs' stilted emotional spectrum. He could irritate his boss to the limit of his patience and then flash that Hollywood smile like it was all some kind of game…but he could also induce the lead agent's strongest protective instincts.

For over ten years Gibbs had watched the younger man's back; his gruff personality and stinging head slaps camouflaging the depth of caring that went way beyond words and far beyond the job. Their friendship had always demanded an honesty and openness that very few people were privy to. Whatever and whoever else came into their lives, it would always be their constant.

Gibbs had lost too many people in his life - family and those he counted as family. In his usual private way he was still coming to terms with the loss of Mike Franks and his gut clenched at the thought of adding DiNozzo to that list.

'_Never figured you for a quitter, Gunny,'_ Gibbs imagined the gruff rebuke from his old mentor. _'The fat lady may be clearing her throat but she ain't singing yet.' _

Gibbs straightened his shoulders and quickened his pace, refusing to give the dark thoughts any further licence. He had a case to lead and a badly injured agent to find…and he was determined to do just that.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Nearly three hours had passed since Sanjaya left the cabin to withdraw the much-needed funds from Tony's account. The agent hoped like hell that his delayed return meant that he had run into a problem – a silver-haired, hard-ass, former Marine type problem. He struggled to his feet, wavering a little before regaining his equilibrium and approaching the reinforced door.

"What are you doing?" Palmer asked.

"I'm an investigator, Palmer, I'm going to investigate, see what we're dealing with here."

"How?"

"By doing what I do best…I'm gonna push a few buttons and see what happens."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Tony. You really shouldn't be moving around, your shoulder could start bleeding again."

"We don't know who these guys are or what they want. If I can push this guy a little, maybe we can find out. Relax, Palmer, I know what I'm doing."

Jimmy felt his tension headache increase another notch as Tony began a loud verbal assault on their one remaining captor. After fifteen minutes, the young ME's head was pounding and he wondered just how long Tony could keep yelling through the door, goading and daring Muluk to make an appearance.

Tony stepped back quickly as the small viewing compartment in the door suddenly opened. A pair of angry black eyes glared back at them, ordering them to stand against the far wall. As soon as they had complied, the door swung open and Muluk entered, welding his gun menacingly and kicking the door closed behind him.

"Nice entrance. Just the right amount of drama and flair," Tony critiqued dryly and then tapped a long finger against his lips. "Something's missing though…that not-so-subtle element of maniacal insanity."_  
><em>  
>In two long strides, Muluk had crossed the room and pressed the barrel of the gun cruelly against Tony's head.<p>

"My bad," Tony grunted. "There it is."

"What do you want?" Muluk growled, stepping back so he could cover both men.

"Nothing really, just thought you might wanna, you know, talk to someone," Tony replied casually. "Can't be easy knowing your buddy has emptied my account and bought himself a ticket out of Dodge."

Muluk smiled arrogantly.

"Sanjaya will return," he said confidently.

"He's been gone a while, he should have been back by now, unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless he left you here to take the blame," Tony suggested. "He gets away clean and you do time for murder."

"I didn't murder anyone!" Muluk hissed.

"Maybe not but you shot me," Tony replied. "See, the thing is, the US justice system gets a little cranky when people shoot holes in its federal agents or kidnap federal employees."

A flickering of uncertainty swept across the Indonesian's face as Tony continued.

"But there's always a good news and a bad news aspect. The bad news is that here in Virginia, the death penalty is still in existence…but the good news is that you get to choose whether you fry in the electric chair or die by lethal injection. Either way, pal, you're headed for a dirt nap."

Tony looked thoughtful, pretending not to notice how Muluk's lips curled into a snarl and his grip tightened on the gun.

"Still, there may be a way I can help you…you know, put in a good word for you with the DA."

Muluk raised an eyebrow so Tony pressed on.

"Tell me everything you know about this operation; who's running it and how two US Navy petty officers were involved. Tell me what I want to know and I'll do everything I can to prevent the DA pushing for the death penalty."

"What makes you think that anyone other than Alam, Sanjaya and me is involved?" he challenged.

Tony chuckled humourlessly and shook his head as he leaned casually against the wall.

"Come on, man, I'm trying to help you here. I may not know what's going on but my gut tells me that it's something big and that you; Larry and Curly were just the tip of the iceberg. You don't really expect me to believe that you three masterminded the whole operation?"

"Ah…Tony," Palmer said, noticing Muluk's fists were clenched so tightly he was about to pop a knuckle.

Tony ignored Palmer's warning and continued his assessment, recognising the Indonesian was close to losing his cool.

"First, the exchange was a complete farce that, by now, has drawn the attention of every federal law enforcement agency in the country," he stated.

"Second, you lost your money guy and resorted to robbing a drug store. Not very professional…you don't mind some constructive criticism, do ya?" he asked not waiting for a response.

"Thirdly, one of the sailors survived and is probably describing you to a sketch artist as we speak and if that fails there's always the CCTV footage in the drug store or the pharmacist you left alive to identify you. "

"And finally, you're holding two federal employees hostage while your pal tries to bleed my account dry so you can get enough cash to hell out of here. Now, I don't know about you but I'm thinking that this whole thing looks like an out-take from Dumb and Dumber – hell, if I was running this operation, I'd shoot you myself."

The Indonesian moved swiftly, catching Tony off-guard as he hit him high in the chest with enough power to drive him backward and slam him into the wall. The impact purged the breath from Tony's lungs and he swallowed a shout as every nerve in his injured shoulder screamed in agony.

A strong forearm pinned him to the wall by the neck making it almost impossible for him to take a decent breath. In his peripheral vision, Tony saw Palmer step forward only to be struck a fearsome blow to the face that staggered him and sent his glasses skidding across the floor.

"You arrogant American pig," Muluk hissed, pressing the gun painfully into Tony's sternum. "We carry out jihad because it's the duty of a Muslim to avenge. The Americans and their allies must be taught that every single drop of Muslim blood will be remembered and accounted for. Every blow will be repaid; blood will be redeemed by blood; a life for a life."

The pressure on his windpipe eased slightly and Tony drew in several deep breaths.

"You're Jemaah Islamiyah," he whispered, feeling the blood leave his face.

"The cries of Muslim women and children have never succeeded in stopping the brutality of America or its allies. Well, here we are - Muslim men, right under your Christian noses and we will harness the pain of the death of our brothers and sisters and smite the infidel hegemony on your own soil."

A sinister smile formed on the man's face before he viciously struck out with the heel of his hand, landing an agonising blow to Tony's wounded shoulder. The agent's knees buckled and his vision swam as a short stifled scream escaped.

"You asked why I am sure that Sanjaya will return," Muluk said, removing the flash drive from the pocket of his jeans. "This flash drive contains information that will rain horror on your people. Sanjaya will return because, like me, he believes in our holy struggle against evil. We are happy to die as martyrs for our cause."

"S'good," Tony gasped. "Cause when my boss gets here…I'm sure he'll accommodate you."

Muluk gave Tony one last contemptuous shove, chuckling as the agent sprawled in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room.

"We shall see," he replied and purposely crushed Palmer's glasses beneath his heavy soled shoes as he left the room.

Palmer scampered to Tony's side alarmed to see the amount of fresh blood soaking through the dressing and staining Tony's hoodie.

"Know when I said I knew what I was doing?" Tony mumbled.

"Yes," the younger man nodded.

"I lied," Tony conceded as his head thudded against Jimmy's shoulder and he mercifully, tumbled into the waiting darkness.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Gibbs and Vance entered the forensics lab to find that Ziva and McGee had returned and were speaking with Anna Maloney, an NCIS Intel Analyst for the Asia Pacific region. Anna was an attractive, dark haired woman who had spent six years of her youth living in Indonesia when her family was transferred to Jakarta. She was fluent in the national language of Bahasa as well as the regional languages Javanese, Minangkabau and Sundanese.

"What have we got?" Gibbs asked.

"We know that petty officers Leyton and Harvey viewed the flash drive on this computer this morning before they went to the exchange at Bentley State Park," McGee said. "It's a long shot, Boss, but if they accidentally saved the data to a temporary file and if we can retrieve it, Anna should be able to translate it."

"Stay on it," the team leader instructed turning his attention to his scientists. "Abs?"

"There were, like, a zillion smeared fingerprints on the ATM, Gibbs. We were able to match three different latent prints to their owners; none bear any resemblance to our suspects."

"Ziva, check their alibis."

"I am on it," the Israeli replied taking the information from Abby and returning to the bullpen.

"Camera?" Gibbs prompted.

"Not in the ATM or in close proximity," Abby replied with a shake of her pigtails."

"How much cash they get?"

"Tony had three thousand, seven hundred dollars in his savings account. His PIN was accessed correctly on the first attempt and five hundred dollars was withdrawn."

"They need cash," Vance stated. "Why not take it all?"

"The daily limit on Tony's account is five hundred dollars. Banks allocate daily limits to accounts depending on the client's asset position and banking history. Limits are applied to accounts not to ATMs so even if they tried another machine, they couldn't electronically access anymore funds for twenty-four hours."

"Anthony must have known his daily limit was much lower than these men required," Ducky stated.

"He knew we'd be monitoring his account," Gibbs said. "Probably hoped we'd get an ID from a print or a camera that would help us find them."

"I don't like it," Vance said. "These men are desperate for cash. If DiNozzo and Palmer can't provide it, they may have outlived their usefulness. We have no way of knowing if they're dead or alive."

"They're alive," Gibbs and Ducky replied simultaneously, exchanging a glance that clearly showed a resolve based more on wishful thinking than evidence.

"Abs, you get the results of the tox screen?"

"Of course, el jefe, I mean Gibbs," she corrected flashing a quick look at the agency el jefe standing nearby. "My faithful but temporary sidekick, Doctor Duckman Mallard and I tested petty officer Leyton and Harvey's urine and blood but both were negative."

"As we discussed earlier, gentlemen," Ducky added, "an isolated intake of drugs six weeks ago would be metabolised quickly by the body, leaving no trace of their existence in the blood or urine."

"And that's why we tested their hair samples." Abby continued. "Hair provides a permanent record for any drug or toxin that has been introduced into the body. Toxicology testing of hair samples can show up to six months of drug use, depending on the length of the hair."

She looked from Gibbs to the director, realising both men preferred particularly short cuts. "Probably more like two weeks for you guys. Anyway, I tested for the more common date rape drugs such as GHB, Rohypnol, or ketamine and our petty officers were telling the truth."

"They were drugged," Gibbs stated.

"Correctamundo! Approximately six weeks ago, both Leyton and Harvey ingested enough GHB to induce erratic behaviour, increased libido and memory blackouts."

"Director, as we have now proven that our petty officers were drugged and quite likely blackmailed, do you believe the Navy will waive disciplinary action?" Ducky asked.

"I'm afraid not," Vance replied. "Leyton will be brought up on charges, dishonourably discharged and will be lucky to avoid Leavenworth. Harvey will receive a posthumous DD and his family will lose all privileges."

"I don't understand," Abby said. "If they are going to be dishonourably discharged anyway, why bother with the toxicology tests?"

Gibbs and Vance exchanged a glance before Vance responded.

"We can't save their careers or reputations but maybe the results can save a marriage."

Abby acknowledged his words with a grim nod as McGee's voice sounded from the other side of the lab.

"Boss, I've got something!"

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

The room was completely dark with the exception of the faint fingers of moonlight that shone down on them through the barred window. Palmer didn't need light to know that Tony's condition had deteriorated. Even from six inches away, he could feel the heat pouring from the older man's body.

Caught in the grip of a fever and drenched in sweat, Tony had succumbed to pain and exhaustion. The agent's sleep was fitful and although Palmer was grateful his friend was finally resting, he was deeply concerned by thoughts of septicaemia and infection.

Jimmy rubbed his tired eyes, wincing as his fingers pressed against the swelling of his right eye and cheekbone. The recollection of their earlier interaction with Muluk sent a cold shiver down the younger man's spine and for the second time since this nightmare began, Jimmy wondered whether Tony was exceedingly brave or borderline certifiable.

He admired the agent's ability to stay focused on the situation and attempt to gather as much intel on their captors as possible. Despite the bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tony had stepped between Palmer and danger without thought of his own safety.

Jimmy's hopes that Sanjaya had been captured were dashed with the Indonesian returned. The voices of their captors were muffled and indistinct but definitely not happy.

Tony mumbled in his sleep and Palmer leaned closer, placing the back of his hand against the other man's forehead to confirm what he already knew – he was burning up. Needing to get a better look at his wound, the young ME slowly and quietly unzipped the hoodie and gently pulled it away from the shoulder. The t-shirt below had already been cut away when he had first treated the wound and the Celox dressings were now soaked through and desperately needed changing. He reached to look under the dressing and started at the sound of Tony's quiet voice.

"You better be planning to buy me dinner first."

"When we get out of here, I'll buy you all the pizza money can buy."

"I'm not that easy – make it surf 'n Turf."

Palmer's relieved smile was short-lived as the young ME lifted the dressing and caught sight of the wound. It was bright red and still seeping blood as he had expected but the red streaks radiating from the wound to the surrounding skin were sure signs of infection.

"How's it look?" Tony asked, his eyes still closed as he gently flexed his stiff neck.

"I've seen worse," Palmer replied taking hold of Tony's wrist and noting his fast pulse and rapid breathing. "I'm worried about infection. You need to be in a hospital."

Tony slowly opened his eyes and recognised the fear that Palmer was desperately trying to disguise.

"Gibbs is coming, he'll find us," he assured the younger man.

"Will he, Tony? The other guy, Sanjaya, he's back…got back about thirty minutes ago," he said as he manuevred the hoodie back over Tony's shoulder.

"Damn," Tony whispered before clearing his throat and speaking with certainty. "May take a little longer than we hoped but Gibbs will find us…we've just got to buy him some more time."

Footsteps and angry voices grew louder and stopped outside the locked door. Harsh light flooded the room causing both men to shelter their eyes. The viewing compartment was quickly opened and dark eyes confirmed the occupants were well clear of the door before they swung it open. Sanjaya and Muluk both wore ominous expressions as they walked into the room and dragged Tony roughly to his feet. He clamped his teeth together, to cut off the scream that had begun to escape as the men pinned him against the wall by his shoulders.

"You lied to me," Sanjaya hissed. "I could only get five hundred dollars from your account."

"You asked for my PIN and I gave it to you," Tony replied through tightly clenched teeth.

Infuriated, Sanjaya put his weight behind a powerful blow that caught Tony on the jaw. His head snapped to the side and pain speared through his entire body. Dropping to his knees, he spat the coppery substance from his mouth and fought the urge to vomit. Sanjaya reached down, grabbed a fist full of Tony's hair and cruelly pulled him back to his feet.

"Muluk told me what you said. You take us for fools!" Sanjaya said coldly. "Your country will soon learn who the fools really are…but first you must pay for your deceit."

"I kinda figured," Tony gasped.

The Indonesian placed the gun at Tony's head and flicked off the safety.

"Wait!" Tony said, carefully schooling his features as his still muzzy brain worked furiously to buy more time. "For two smart guys, you're about to make the dumbest mistake of your lives. It's money you need, right? You kill us, you throw away your best chance of getting all the money you need."

Sanjaya looked sceptical.

"Go on," he said.

"You have two federal employees right here. Kill us and our government will hunt you to the end of the earth. Send a ransom demand and you and your money can fly back to Indonesia and climb a few positions higher on the JI totem pole."

Sanjaya turned quickly, this time sinking his fist into Tony's unprotected abdomen. The agent buckled, retching and coughing up the bile burning the back of his throat.

"You think we are that stupid? Everybody knows that the US government does not negotiate with kidnappers."

"That's…a deterrent. What they want…you to believe," Tony replied between gulps of air.

"I do not believe you?" he spat contemptuously, drawing back his fist for another shot at the injured man.

"Stop!" Palmer yelled, momentarily drawing attention away from Tony. "He's telling you the truth. If everybody knew that the US Government was willing to enter hostage negotiations, every man with a grudge or a half-baked cause would come out of the woodwork."

Blood-drained from Jimmy's face as Muluk took a menacing step toward him.

"Oh…er…I didn't mean to suggest that your…ah…cause was half-baked or that you …er…came out of the woodwork…"

"He means that NCIS spent a lot of time and money training us. They're not about to throw that away."

"How do we know you are telling the truth?"

"Demand your ransom," Tony said, still trying to regain his breath. "If they pay, you have your money - if not, kill us."

"I don't like it," Muluk said. "How do we know the place won't be crawling with feds when they drop off the ransom?"

"You're calling the…the shots, man. You choose the time and...and the place and you tell them the ransom is not to be delivered by an agent."

The Indonesians exchanged a glance and then, without another word, they left the room.

Jimmy reached Tony's side in time to help slow the agent's descent to the floor. He winced as the heat from his friend's fever penetrated through his clothes. Tony had been downplaying his condition, trying to keep things light and casual for the younger man's sake. Considering his rough gasps for air and the sweat pouring down his face, he wasn't doing a very good job of it but Palmer felt compelled to ask.

"How are you feeling?"

The agent looked at the young ME through fever-bright eyes.

"M'fine," he lied.

For the first time since he joined NCIS, Jimmy truly understood the motivation behind the Gibbs head slap but he suppressed his frustration and changed the subject.

"You think they bought our story?" he whispered hopefully.

"I don't know, Jimmy," Tony replied, his expression as grave as Palmer had ever seen it. "But we can't sit here and wait…we gotta get out of here, fast."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-0**

A/N:- Heartfelt thanks for your support of this story and your very kind thoughts and prayers for Ethan, Liz and their family.

Unfortunately, Ethan has suffered a setback and will remain in hospital for Christmas but his family are hopeful that he will be home for the New Year. Liz has asked me to once again pass on her grateful thanks as she slowly gets through the mountain of wonderful PM's you have sent her – she is determined to answer them all as time allows.

From home to home and heart to heart, I wish you and your families a safe and happy Christmas. L


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter Six**

"Boss, I've got something."

Desperate for any news, Vance, Gibbs, Abby and Ducky immediately flanked McGee and the NCIS Intel Analyst, Anna Maloney. The temporary file was accessed and its image projected onto the large plasma. The language was definitely not English.

"Can you read that, Maloney?" Vance asked.

"Yes, Sir," Maloney replied. "It's written in Bahasa, one of the main languages of Indonesia."

"What's it say?" Gibbs prompted impatiently.

"It appears to be a call to arms from Jemaah Islamiyah. The formation of a mujahideen right here in the US."

The NCIS Intel Analyst went on to explain that Jemaah Islamiyah is an extremist-Muslim terrorist group, deeply reactionary in the strict scientific meaning of the word. JI is irreconcilably hostile to the secular state and to basic democratic rights and believe there are two alternatives for any Muslim: life in an Islamic state implementing the Sharia, or death striving to achieve it. They have a deep animus towards the West; the United States in particular, is seen as embodying the anti-Islamic struggle of the Christian and Jewish dominated Western world.

"The flash drive contains the names and contact details of fifteen members of JI who have been living in the US and Canada since 2005," Maloney said.

"Sleepers forming a cell," Gibbs stated tightly.

"How did they pass the background checks of the US Immigration Department?" Abby asked.

"According to Immigration records, all fifteen were accepted into the country as refugees in early 2005, after the Indian Ocean tsunami.

"USA and Canada were among many countries who accepted refugees. Jemaah Islamiyah obviously saw it as an opportunity to get their members past our security checks knowing there was no way for our agencies to verify their identities and backgrounds."

"I would assume that as a leader in global humanitarian aid," Ducky added. "The US government was prepared to take a calculated risk rather than turn away hundreds of innocent people in genuine need."

"Any information about planned attacks?" Gibbs asked.

"No, Sir, just contact details and a meeting place in New York State, just over the Canadian border," Maloney replied.

"Why would JI risk giving this information to two US sailors?" McGee asked. "Thousands of flash drives are brought into the country everyday and go unchecked."

"They've forced two of our servicemen to do their bidding on home soil," Vance replied. "They're sending a message."

"I vote we send one back," Gibbs added, looking toward the door as Ziva re-entered the lab. "What have you got?

"Two of the three fingerprints Abby lifted from the ATM belong to the security firm that maintains the machine," she replied.

"And the third?"

"The third print belongs to a sixty-eight year old grandfather. All have solid alibis and no known links to Jemaah Islamiyah or any other extremist group."

"Have you-"

"I have confirmed that the families of petty officers Leyton and Harvey have arrived at the safe house and the Marine guard is still posted outside Leyton's hospital room."

Gibbs nodded his approval before he and Vance started for the door.

"McGee, I want a copy of that file transferred to MTAC," he said over his shoulder. "Maloney you're with us."

The lack of response stopped the lead agent and director in their tracks and turned all heads in the junior agent's direction. McGee was staring transfixed at his computer monitor.

"McGee?" Gibbs called, his irritability thinly veiling his concern.

"Er…Boss, you're going to want to see this…I just got a ransom video from the kidnappers."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

"Let's see it," Gibbs said as the agents, the director, Ducky and Abby stood anxiously watching the large plasma screen.

The silhouette of a man appeared in a shadowy room, his features hidden in the darkness. His English was coloured by an accent, as he demanded a ransom of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the safe release of the two federal employees. The money was to be delivered by a member of NCIS' support personnel, placed in a non-descript sports bag and placed beside the vending machine on Union Station's platform nine at 8am the next morning. Any sign of a cop or federal agent would result in the immediate execution of the hostages.

The camera panned to the right and the room was flooded with light. Tony and Palmer came into view, squinting against the brightness and sitting on the filthy floor Palmer was holding a copy of the Richmond Times-Dispatch. The camera zoomed in to show today's date and with a few quick keystrokes, McGee confirmed it was a copy of the evening edition released just four hours earlier.

Gibbs took two deep breaths and shoved his fisted hands into his pockets. It was a gesture of temper control that he rarely used and it rarely worked. The two men had clearly been beaten, painful looking bruises contrasted starkly against the pallor of both faces. Palmer looked younger without his glasses and although he was trying valiantly, it was clear that he was holding on by a thread.

The former Marine's sharp eyes turned to his agent noting that Tony was leaning heavily against Palmer in an effort to remain upright. Drenched in sweat and trembling with pain and fatigue, Gibbs recognised the signs of fever and infection in an untreated bullet wound.

"Come on, Tony, give me something," Gibbs whispered to the image of his agent.

A voice sounded from off camera and Tony nodded his head. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to find the energy to speak and when he began, his voice was low and without inflection.

"Have to excuse…our appearance, Boss," Tony rasped, "I told them we needed more…time in hair and make-up but…you know these low budget productions."

The off screen voice sounded again, angrier this time as a fist swung into view and thumped into Tony's wounded shoulder. Abby turned away from the screen and McGee hugged her close as Tony's strangled scream echoed eerily off the walls of the small room. His head fell forward until his chin rested against his chest and for a moment, he knew nothing but pain and gasping breaths as piercing waves of agony vibrated throughout his entire body.

Trying to curb the storm of strong emotions coursing through him, Gibbs silently urged his agent on, desperately needing the younger man to produce that famous DiNozzo stubbornness and stay conscious long enough to give him a clue to their whereabouts.

As Tony slowly raised his head, the team leader released a breath and regained his composure with its slow expulsion. The look of mute disgust that his agent unleashed on his captors was followed by a bitter smile that curled the edges of the younger man's lips. Gibbs silently applauded his senior field agent; despite his affable demeanour, he could cower just about anyone when he put his mind to it. Tony looked directly into the camera.

"You gotta give 'em…what they want, Boss," he said, struggling to get his breathing under control. "You'll never…find us in the boon…boondocks. Screw with them and…this place will become a…a graveyard real fast. We're on death row here. There'll be no… stay of execution for us."

The image disappeared and the room fell silent as each person took a moment to control their emotions. Vance recovered first.

"I'm going to have to brief SecNav," he said, walking toward the door. "This thing's just got a lot more complicated. McGee I want a copy of the ransom tape and the JI file sent to my office immediately."

"Yes, Sir," McGee replied, grateful for something constructive to do.

As Ziva and Abby spoke quietly together, Ducky and Gibbs remained in front of the plasma, staring at the vacant screen.

"I want those bastards on my autopsy table, Jethro," Ducky hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

"Working on it, Duck."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

An hour later, Gibbs and Ducky waited impatiently in the waiting area outside the director's office. Watching his old friend's growing agitation, Gibbs wondered if he'd ever seen the ME so wound up.

"For pity's sake, Jethro, what is taking so long?" Ducky asked exasperatedly.

"Room's still in secure mode, Duck. He'll let us in when he's done."

"Yes, well, what I don't understand is how you can be so blasted calm about this!" Ducky blustered.

Gibbs turned sharply toward his friend, his eyes burning with anger. He saw the look of regret on the older man's face and swallowed his harsh response.

"I am, sorry, Jethro," Ducky said. "I know you are doing everything you can."

"We'll find 'em, Duck," Gibbs said, realising as he spoke the words that it was a promise that he had no way to deliver.

The sound of a lock disengaging had Gibbs on his feet and striding through the door of the director's office even as Vance pressed the button on the intercom.

"Anne, send Agent Gibbs - never mind," he added with a huff of irritation.

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

"I couldn't get sign off on the ransom money," Vance replied getting straight to the point.

"Not even for our own people?" Ducky asked incredulously.

"You know how this works, Doctor, if we give in to the demands of one terrorist group every crackpot with a personal agenda will expect the same."

"Then what, may I ask, is the alternative, Director? If we do not meet the demands, Anthony and Mister Palmer will almost certainly be killed."

"The US government does not give in to the demands of terrorists under any circumstance."

"You cannot be serious," Ducky continued. "You have access to the ransom, top of the range technology and an agency filled with highly skilled agents at your disposal. Yet, without lifting a finger, you would allow two young men who have admirably served this agency and their country, to be summarily put to death."

"Duck..."

"No, Jethro, I will not be silenced, not this time…not when Anthony and Mister Palmer's lives are at stake," the older man said. "I have dedicated much of my life to NCIS, Director but let me be clear, if those young men are killed because of your shameful decision to toe to the company line, you shall have my resignation on your desk so fast it will make your head spin."

Without waiting for a response, the older man turned abruptly and stormed through the door, shouldering past Ziva and McGee who were waiting to enter. Concerned by the doctor's rare display of temper, Ziva called after him before turning questioning eyes to Gibbs.

With a quick jerk of his head, the team leader instructed Ziva to go after the doctor. She nodded her understanding and hurried toward the stairs.

"Something wrong with Ducky?" McGee asked, still standing in the doorway to Vance's office.

"You got something?" Gibbs asked, avoiding the question.

"Um…maybe, I was able to trace the IP address of the computer used to upload and send the ransom video. Boss, it was sent from the Capitol View Neighbourhood Library, which means-"

"One or both of the kidnappers are back in DC for the ransom drop tomorrow," Gibbs finished.

"Which also means that Tony and Palmer could have been moved somewhere nearby."

"Have legal prepare a warrant for the computer and keyboard," Vance said. "And arrange for Agent Matthews pick it up and bring it back to Ms Scuito to check for prints."

"Legal's already on it, Sir," McGee said shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. "Er…actually, Sir, I'd like to volunteer to be the one to deliver the ransom tomorrow morning."

"Not going to happen, McGee," Vance answered brusquely.

"I know the demand was for a non-agent, Sir, and it may be difficult to believe looking at me now…but when I first joined NCIS I was…well, kind of a geek."

"I have no problem with that image, Agent McGee," Vance said dryly.

"Oh well, then you-" McGee stopped mid sentence and his brow creased in a frown. "Really? No problem with that image at all? I mean…I lost the weight, I drive a Porsche, I dress better-"

"McGee," Gibbs interrupted.

"Sorry, Boss,"

"I have been informed by SecNav that Homeland Security will be taking over the investigation and the hostage negotiation," Vance said. "It is thought that NCIS is too close to this one."

"All the more reason for us to handle it," Gibbs growled. "Is Ducky right, Director? You too busy toeing the company line to give a damn about two of our own?"

Vance stood quickly, not caring as his chair was propelled backward into the wall. Stalking around his desk he stood inches from Gibbs and squared his shoulders. McGee watched nervously as the team leader and agency director stood toe to toe, neither giving an inch.

"Listen up, Gibbs, because I'm only gonna tell you this once…Homeland Security will be here at 9am. I have been specifically ordered to hand over everything we have on the case. Do you understand?" Vance asked, his expression as furious as McGee had ever seen it.

Gibbs' mouth was tight with mutinous anger and his eyes reflected an incandescent fury. After a long moment's duel, the former Marine turned abruptly and strode from the office with McGee trailing behind him.

"I don't get it, Boss," McGee said once they had cleared the director's office. "When we thought Ziva had been killed in Somalia, the director pleaded our case to the Joint Chiefs. We'd never have got approval to engage that terrorist cell without him. I never thought I'd see the day when he would turn his back on his own people."

"Ya think that's what he's done, McGee?"

"He just ordered you to hand over everything we have on the case to Homeland Security at 9am tomorrow!" McGee replied.

"Said that, did he?"

"Boss, I was standing right there when he said…" McGee's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Gibbs' lips twitched at the reaction. "I'm missing something here, aren't I? Wait…he said _he_ has specific orders."

"You hear him pass them on to me?" Gibbs asked rhetorically. "He's handing over the case files at zero nine hundred, the ransom drop's an hour earlier."

"The director is running interference for us so we can go after Tony and Palmer," McGee stated, his jaw hanging open slightly as he tried to fit the pieces together. "So that whole thing in the office was that nudge, nudge, winky thing that Tony says you do."

"Come on," Gibbs replied. "I want another look at that ransom tape."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

"Ducky! Ducky, please wait!" Ziva said as she rushed down the stairwell after him.

The ME ran out of stairs before he ran out of temper and he found himself back in the Autopsy room. He was still pacing and muttering when Ziva arrived a moment later.

"Ducky, what has happened? What is wrong?"

"What on earth does he think he's doing?"

"Who?"

"For the life of me I cannot understand his reasoning," Ducky ranted as he paced agitatedly.

"Whose reasoning? Ducky, I do not understand what has you so upset."

"I know Director Vance is a hard and sometimes uncompromising man but I never dreamed that he would place agency policy before the lives of his own personnel," Ducky said, finally turning to look at her. "Director Vance will not appeal the decision not to sanction a ransom payment to Anthony and Mister Palmer's kidnappers."

"He said that?" Ziva asked. "We are all tired and very concerned, perhaps there was a misunderstanding, yes?"

"I can assure you, my dear, I heard the director's words loud and clear," Ducky replied.

He took several breaths to calm himself and his eyes lit up as he thought of a possible solution. He briskly walked to the coat stand by the door, folded his coat across the crook of his elbow and placed his hat on his head.

'_This is not good,_' Ziva thought.

"Well, my dear," he said. "The director may be content to sit on his hands but I will not."

"Ducky, I am coming with you," she said. "Let me get my coat from upstairs and I will meet you in the parking lot."

Racing back to her desk she wrote a hastily worded note and left it on Gibbs' desk before meeting Ducky at his Morgan and driving off into the night.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

Three hours had passed since Sanjaya and Muluk burst through the door brandishing their weapons and, for a sickening moment, Tony thought he had gambled his and Palmer's lives and lost. When Sanjaya produced the afternoon edition of the Richmond Times-Dispatch and a small recording device, no one had been more surprised than Tony that his latest stalling tactic had actually worked.

Knowing his boss would be too distracted to check his emails and equally certain that his techno-geek partner was never separated from his IPhone, Tony had given his captors McGee's email address to send the video. Sanjaya had then left for Washington, planning to stay overnight and be at Union Station for the drop off.

Tony wiped a dry tongue over parched lips and tried to stay as still as possible. He knew the fierce pain would be waiting to ambush him at the first ill-considered movement. His skin was wet and clammy; his t-shirt soaked. The pain ebbed and flowed through his body as it battled fatigue, infection and fever. He was growing weaker and he didn't need to look at the despair on Palmer's face to know that he wouldn't last much longer without medical treatment.

He looked at the younger man, leaning against the wall with his knees pulled up against his chest - the bruises on his face were the price he paid for his courage. With the benefit of Ducky's expert tutelage, Palmer was excelling at his studies and likely to graduate with honours. He was a good man, a loyal friend and, to Tony's utter amazement, had hooked a beautiful fiancé whom he had planned to marry in the Spring. Palmer didn't belong here – he didn't sign up for this. He wasn't a cop and he wasn't an agent and Tony focussed every ounce of strength and energy into finding a way for Palmer to escape.

He pressed a tightly fisted hand against the headache throbbing at his temples as he tried to come up with something that had a chance in hell of succeeding. He'd always prided himself on the fact that no matter how many times an assignment had gone down the toilet, he'd always been able to come up with a Plan B or C or even D. Granted, they didn't always work and more often than not they led to more trouble but he'd always thought of something.

"Who do you think will deliver the ransom?" Jimmy asked softly from close by.

Tony squinted up at his friend in confusion.

"There's not going to be any ransom, Jimmy," he said. "We needed a Plan A to stall for time. And now, in case everything goes to hell, it's time for Plan B."

"We have a Plan B?"

"Actually, no…but I reckon it's time for one. Any ideas?"

"Sure, we could…what if we…sorry Tony, I've got nothing."

"S'okay," the agent said biting down on the pain as he dragged himself into a seated position.

The barely perceptible muscle tremors that gripped Tony's body every few seconds filled Jimmy with dread.

"I may have an idea," Tony said. "There's just one problem."

"Just one?" Palmer quipped.

Tony grinned at the younger man's attempt to lighten the situation and continued.

"We need a diversion to get by Muluk," he said, "and that's gonna take more than, oh look, your shoelace is undone."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I'll wind him up. When he comes at me, you get out that door, run like hell and don't look back."

"Are you nuts?" Jimmy exclaimed.

"Probably, but that's a discussion for another time."

"Look at you, you're sick and your wound is infected. Let me do it. Muluk's already gunning for you."

"Which makes me the better target," Tony's grin quickly disappeared replaced by a sombre expression. "Besides, we both know that even if I got outta here, I wouldn't get far."

"I won't leave you here, Tony," Jimmy insisted. "There has to be another-"

"Dammit, Palmer, will you listen to me!" Tony snapped stunning his friend into stillness. "You're not leaving me, you're going for help, okay? It's our only chance. We clear?"

After a long moment, Palmer nodded his head in resignation, his fear for Tony rendering him speechless.

"Good," Tony said, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. "Get some rest. We'll wait till first light and then we'll put Plan B into action."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

A/N:- Plan B next chapter.

Thank you all for your continuing support of this story – your reviews and alerts are very gratefully received. Fingers are firmly crossed that Ethan will be allowed home early next week. Have a safe and Happy New Year! L


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter 7**

Gibbs and Abby watched the ransom tape again, looking for the clue the former Marine's gut told him Tony had planted. The start of the message was classic Tony; flippant, impertinent and casual – the mask of a clown firmly in place.

_"Have to excuse our appearance, Boss," Tony rasped, "I told them we needed more time in hair and make-up but you know these low budget productions."_

Gibbs allowed a tight grin. Contrary to popular opinion, he actually liked the younger man's flaky sense of humour and got more of a kick out of it than he'd ever admit to Tony.

As the tape moved forward the lead agent's face was wiped clean of any kind of emotion or response. Rage fisted his hands at the sound of Tony's stifled scream and the vision of his agony. Abby's eyes filled with unshed tears and, seeking comfort, she threaded her arm through Gibbs' as they endured another replay of their friend's pain. Gibbs leaned toward the plasma, scrutinising every word, every minute movement, every nuance of the remainder of the message.

_"You gotta give 'em…what they want, Boss," Tony said, struggling to get his breathing under control. "You'll never…find us in the boon…boondocks. Screw with them and…this place will become a…a graveyard real fast. We're on death row here. There'll be no… stay of execution for us."_

Even disregarding the situation and the younger man's obvious pain and exhaustion, the words weren't right…they weren't how Tony would usually express himself. There had to be a message there.

"What about movie quotes?" Abby offered. "Tony totally loves movies. I could check his dialogue against a few online quote sites. If we find the movie, maybe we'll find the clue."

"Do it," Gibbs said.

McGee had zeroed in on Tony's use of the word "boondocks" and recalled a case a few years ago when they had travelled to the small country town of Edenvale. He and Tony had both referred to Edenvale as the boondocks before launching into a snappy rendition of Duelling Banjos.

Marine intelligence officer, Lieutenant Rihama Shaheen had been found murdered in a motel room in Edenvale. As McGee and Gibbs reviewed the case file to refresh their memories they recalled that Tony had spent little time in the town before Gibbs sent him back to DC. They made an arrest, resolved the case and the murderer had subsequently been jailed.

"Maybe Tony's telling us that he and Palmer are being held somewhere near Edenvale," McGee suggested.

"Bentley State Forest, Leafy Grove, the ATM in Sandston and Palmer holding a copy of the Richmond Times-Dispatch say otherwise," Gibbs replied.

"They're all in the opposite direction to Edenvale," McGee conceded, unable to hide his disappointment.

Gibbs turned on his heel almost walking into Abby who was standing quietly behind him. Her eyes swam behind a curtain of tears; her lips a thin straight line and her arms were wrapped around her middle in a self-hug.

"Abs?"

"I'm sorry, Gibbs, I couldn't find it," she said timidly. "I checked movie quotes and sporting analogies but there were no matches. I feel like we've failed Tony and Jimmy."

He moved to her side and placed a chaste kiss on her temple.

"Not your fault, Abs," he said, "We'll find 'em."

Gibbs turned back toward the plasma screen, not wishing Abby and McGee to see his internal struggle as it played across his face and penetrated his usual mask of emotional detachment. He and DiNozzo were usually so good at communicating without words, giving and receiving direction, offering support and trust with a look that spoke volumes. They'd come to know each other so well over the past ten years...so why was this so hard?

He pressed the play button on the remote; desperate to find the clue he knew DiNozzo had placed in the message.

"All the times I've kicked your damn ass for being cocky," he whispered to his missing agent's image, "you pick _now_ to be subtle!"

**0—o00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

Tony's fever continued to rise and by the pre-dawn hours the chills and painful muscle spasms had drained him completely. He'd spent the night trapped in limbo, hurting too much to fall asleep but in too much pain to stay awake. Jimmy had helplessly watched Tony's misery from his own private purgatory.

Despite the cold dampness in the small room, Palmer removed his jacket and placed it around his friend's shoulders. He shifted in behind him, leaned back against the wall and then eased Tony back until he was lying against his chest. Palmer wasn't sure what scared him more – the fact that Tony was burning up or the agent's silence and total compliance. There was no '_will you still respect me in the morning,_' no '_never on a first date,_' and a disturbing absence of '_no means no._'

In the semi-darkness, Palmer monitored his friend's restless movements and shallow breathing until he was certain Tony was sleeping. He leaned his own head back against the wall and closed his eyes wondering how on earth Tony would be well enough to put Plan B into action in a few hours time.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

Gibbs strode purposefully into Abby's lab and tossed a satchel at McGee. Catching it easily, he opened it and peered in at the sizeable amount of cash.

"Boss, it's after midnight, where'd you get this?" he asked, with a sneaking suspicion his team leader had raided the evidence room.

"You don't wanna know," Gibbs replied.

"Er…I don't mean to tell you what to do…"

"Then don't."

"It's just…er… if the drop goes wrong, we could lose this money and end up facing prison terms."

Gibbs stepped into his agent's personal space.

"If the drop goes wrong, McGee, we lose much more than the money," he growled. "You want out, say the word."

"I don't want out, Boss," McGee said determinedly. "I want to be the one to deliver the ransom – I want to do it for Tony and Jimmy."

"No."

"But Boss-"

"If we're gonna get DiNozzo and Palmer back, I need my team doing what they do best," Gibbs said. "I need you in the vehicle monitoring the tracking device."

McGee sighed audibly.

"Yes, Sir," he agreed reluctantly.

Gibbs placed an affectionate tap on the younger man's cheek in a silent acknowledgement of McGee's gesture.

"Gibbs," Abby called holding the satchel. "There's not enough money here. There's only," she closed her eyes and moved her finger in the air in a silent calculation. "There's only, like, seventy thousand."

"S'all I could get."

"Then perhaps I can be of assistance." Ducky's voice rang out as he and Ziva joined them.

The ME placed a suitcase onto Abby's workbench, snapped open the catches and lifted the lid.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars exactly," Ducky said.

"Rob a bank, Duck?"

"On the contrary, Jethro, I withdrew the funds from my personal account. The proceeds of Mother's estate."

"Ducky plays golf with his bank manager," Ziva explained. "Under the circumstances, he arranged for Ducky to withdraw the cash tonight."

"Sure you wanna do that, Duck. Can't guarantee we'll get it back."

"Quite sure, Jethro, the lives of those two young men are of much greater value…to all of us."

Gibbs nodded to his old friend and then cast an eye over Ziva's attire.

"I need you out of those pants?" he said.

"Excuse me?" she replied unable to disguise her surprise.

"You're making the drop tomorrow. I need you to look less like an federal agent and more like a secretary. If the kidnappers think you're an agent, Tony and Palmer are dead."

"I understand," Ziva said. "I will be ready."

"If I may, Jethro, you are already one agent short, using Ziva to make the drop reduces your resources even further."

"Can't be helped, Duck. I need someone who won't look like an agent."

"Well, then, might I offer another suggestion?"

"Who'd you have in mind?"

"Me."

"Not gonna happen."

"And why not?"

"You know why, it's too dangerous."

"But you'll risk Ziva?"

"Ziva's a trained agent, Doctor, there's a difference and you know it," Gibbs said. "We get one shot at this before the case is handed over to Homeland Security."

"Then I insist on accompanying you," Ducky said stubbornly.

"No."

"Do you mean to tell me, Agent Gibbs, that you believe that Mister Palmer means less to me than Anthony does to you?"

Dragging in a deep breath, Gibbs carded his fingers through his hair. He forced himself to relax and his anger dissipated when he saw his own concern and despair mirrored in the older man's eyes.

"You stay in the car and you do what I damn well tell you, we clear?"

"Crystal."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

Several hours had passed since Tony had faded into an exhausted sleep and though the heat still emanating from his body was troubling, Palmer was relieved to see some of the tension and pain had eased from his friend's face.

From his position on the filthy floor, Jimmy could see the sky through the window high above. The sun had begun to send a few timid streams of light through an overcast sky. Jimmy wasn't afraid to admit that he was terrified of what lay ahead for them. It had taken the young ME a long time to feel a part of this team; surely Tony didn't really expect him to leave him behind?

He squeezed his eyes shut and Ducky's familiar and calming voice of reason intruded into his frightened thoughts.

"Courage, Mister Palmer, is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death."

Jimmy huffed out a laugh.

"Guess that makes me particularly courageous right now," he muttered.

"That's good, Palmer," Tony's quiet voice replied. " 'Cause you're gonna need it to get us outta here."

He struggled into a sitting position and a quiet moan escaped from between tightly clenched teeth as he fought off a wave of nausea.

"I thought you were sleeping," Palmer stated.

Tony shook his head and immediately regretted the movement. He squinted up through the window, noting the brightening sky.

"S'time," he said. "You ready?"

"Yeah, Tony, about that," Palmer began. "I've been thinking and I'm not sure Plan B is going to work."

"You got a better idea, I'm all ears."

"I think we should sit tight. Agent Gibbs and Doctor Mallard will come for us. I know they will."

Tony sighed deeply and knuckled his eyes. He was hoping the younger man would realise the inevitable outcome of their situation without him having to verbalise it.

"Jimmy, listen to me. We know these guys are members of Jemaah Islamiyah and that they're planning an attack somewhere on US soil, right?"

Palmer nodded.

"The only reason we're alive right now is because they desperately need the ransom to buy their way back onto the terrorist of the year list." He met Jimmy's gaze with a sombre expression. "We convinced them that NCIS would meet their demands. What do you think's gonna happen when they don't get their hands on the money? We're on a hiding to nothing here, Palmer! Whatever happens at the ransom drop, we can't wait for a rescue."

"But even if Plan B works and I get out of here, where do I go? There's forest all around us!" Jimmy replied.

"I told you when we first got here that this place looked familiar – we had a case out here a few years back."

"But-"

"No buts," Tony said cutting off Palmer's objection. "There's a town at the foot of the small mountain range east of here. You use the tallest mountain as a bearing and you run like hell until you reach the town and call for help."

"Tony, I can't leave you, I…I won't!"

"Then we're both dead," Tony said sharply. "And who knows how many others if JI execute their plan."

Palmer closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"You really think I can do it?"

"There's an old saying, Jimmy…prove yourself brave, truthful and unselfish, and someday you will be a real boy."

"Socrates?"

"Pinocchio."

"Of course," Palmer nodded looking thoughtful for a long moment. "Tony?"

"Yeah."

"You really think they have an award for terrorist of the year?"

The two men laughed nervously - grateful for the break in tension. All too soon the gravity of the situation returned and its weight was oppressive.

"Help me up," Tony said, setting his jaw and gritting his teeth as Palmer helped him to stand and then prevented him falling on his ass.

When the room stopped spinning he cast a serious look at Palmer.

"Don't try this at home, Tiny Jim."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

In the quiet of the nearly deserted bullpen, Gibbs paused the ransom tape he was scrutinising for the umpteenth time and pressed the heels of his hands into his tired eyes. Opening the top drawer of his desk he thumbed the lid off a bottle of Tylenol and swallowed two tablets hoping to eradicate his persistent headache. Although he'd ordered his team home to rest, he knew from too many similar experiences that he wouldn't sleep until Tony was safely back under his watchful eye.

He slammed his fists on his desk unable to suppress the worry that was eating him alive. He knew DiNozzo had slipped a seemingly innocuous clue into the ransom tape expecting Gibbs to find it - but he was damned if he could and his frustration levels soared.

It was difficult to describe the intangible relationship that existed between Tony and Gibbs; no words could adequately explain the sense of trust and friendship that bound them. Deep within both of them, they recognised their strong bond for what it was, although neither acknowledged it openly.

Initially, Gibbs put it down to Tony's eagerness to learn and his passion for the job. But he soon came to realize that the younger man had seen something in him that the former Marine thought long dead. Within a few months of him joining NCIS, he had punched a DiNozzo-sized hole in the lead agent's armour and looked beneath the gruff voice and steely expression and found a man with the heart of father.

He looked at the stilled image of his agent on the plasma. The sweat-matted hair and the face lined with pain and flushed with fever. The tremor in Tony's voice and his unnaturally shallow breathing sent a chill down Gibbs' spine – he knew the younger man was running out of time. Gibbs set his jaw and made a silent vow - death would not claim this man if he had any say in the matter.

Snatching up the remote, he pressed play and the ransom tape resumed.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Tony leaned heavily against the back wall as he aimed his latest verbal barrage at Muluk. He knew the Indonesian was listening and if recent history was any indication, it wouldn't be too long before he graced them with his presence. Standing on legs that could scarcely bear his weight, Tony hoped the terrorist arrived before he passed out - Plan C was not an option. Holding his right arm by the wrist he cradled it to his chest, opting to conserve his energy for a time when might utilize it to his best advantage.

Right on queue the viewing compartment slid open and Muluk's hate-filled eyes scanned the room. When the compartment closed and he heard the key being inserted into the lock, Tony turned to Palmer.

"You run like hell and don't look back – no matter what," he whispered.

Palmer's face was ashen but he nodded tightly in response.

The door swung open and Muluk burst into the room brandishing the ever-present handgun and instinctively adopting a defensive stance.

Tony choked out a laugh that owed nothing to humour.

"Don't hold back the melodrama on our account," he mocked.

"What do you want?" Muluk sneered.

"Actually, the bucket in the corner's getting a little Pepe Le Pew, so if you could call housekeeping we'll be sure to leave a sizeable tip."

Muluk remained silent unleashing a mute look of disgust in Tony's direction. The agent's false energy was draining fast, paling his face and sending tremors through his exhausted body. He was out of time; he had to act now.

"I gotta hand it to you, man," Tony continued. "The way Sanjaya walks all over you, I'd be pissed as hell…but I guess someone has to be the brains of the outfit."

"Sanjaya and I are equals. We do what is required to further our cause."

"You really think he's gonna come back for you when he's got two hundred and fifty grand in his hands? I mean, why would he kill himself for 72 virgins when quarter of a mill would keep him in tits and ass for the rest of his life?"

An inarticulate howl of rage sounded and Muluk radiated fury as he closed in fast. With all the strength he could muster, Tony threw an elbow, feeling the man's nose cartilage give way and the spurt of warm sticky blood as he staggered backward.

"Now!" Tony screamed.

Palmer disappeared through the door and Muluk steadied himself to aim the gun at the young ME's back. Without hesitation Tony made a grab for the barrel and twisted it sharply. He yelled in pain as Muluk gripped his right shoulder, applying agonising pressure but still the agent did not release his grip on the gun. The barrel pointed dangerously from one to the other as the men continued their struggle…and then a shot rent the air.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Jimmy Palmer ran like he had never run before. At the sound of the gunshot he had skidded to a halt, torn between returning and continuing on. Tony's words sounded in his head.

"_You run like hell and don't look back – no matter what,"_

His leg muscles burned and so did his lungs. Despite the cool, overcast day the perspiration dripped off of him as he struggled through the brush, wincing as the branches of some prickly shrub penetrated the fabric of his pants and stung the flesh on his legs.

Skidding to a halt, he bent at the waist and breathed deeply for a moment before scanning the surrounding area; he needed to check that he was still heading in the right direction. Seeing the mountain dead ahead but still some distance away, Jimmy pushed on, picking up speed, knowing that he was already on the verge of collapse, but forcing more out of his tired legs.

He stumbled as his foot caught on exposed tree roots and rocks and fell heavily to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of him and sent a huge burst of pain throughout his body. He thought he might pass out but then the pain subsided and he desperately tried to fill his air-starved lungs.

A buzzing sounded in his ears and he turned his head toward it, finding himself staring into a pair of dark lifeless eyes. Momentarily panic-stricken, Jimmy clambered backwards, his heart thudding painfully within his ribcage. Only then did he realise he had fallen next to the grisly remains of a small white and brown dog, still wearing a collar with a name tag that read "Buster."

He coughed, the bile from the back of his throat and spat the taste from his mouth, silently cursing his lack of control. Unconsciously his training kicked in and he concluded that, based on the size and quantity of flies and maggots, the small dog had been dead for several days. The absence of its stomach and soft tissue was clearly the result of a larger animal, probably a coyote.

Breathing deeply, Jimmy rose to his feet. He looked ahead to the large mountain and gained his bearings before setting off again and leaving the gruesome image behind him for the forest scavengers.

As fatigue assaulted his body, he ran on legs that could barely support him, slamming his shoulder painfully into the rough bark of a tree as he lost his balance and fell to the ground again. He lay with his face in the dirt and his blood pumping furiously in his ears. His mind was racing and he didn't have the energy to go on.

"I'm sorry, Tony," he whispered breathlessly. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay, mister?" he heard a timid voice ask.

He opened his eyes to a pair of small white sneakers; a small boy crouched before him with a concerned look on his face. Sitting up quickly, Jimmy looked around frantically for an adult and his hopes fell when he saw no one else.

"I…I'm fine," Jimmy gasped. "Are you here alone?"

The little boy nodded his blonde head, then frowned and removed the backpack he was wearing. Rifling inside it, he withdrew a small drink bottle and handed it to Jimmy.

"It's grape Kool-Aid," he said. "Good for what ails ya my Pop says."

Jimmy gratefully accepted the bottle and took several voracious gulps, still eyeing the boy thoughtfully.

"What's your name?" he asked when he came up for air.

"Ethan Liam Samuel Thomas," the little boy replied.

"That's a big name for a little guy."

"I'm not little, I'm five and a quarter going on six," he said indignantly.

"My name's Jimmy. What are you doing out here all alone?"

"I'm looking for my dog," Ethan replied, his big brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He ran away during the thunder storm last week. He musta got lost in the forest. Have you seen him?"

Jimmy swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head, knowing the truth would break the little boy's heart.

"What if you get lost while you're looking for him? Where are your parents?"

"I won't get lost. I've been here lotsa times with my Dad. He's in Afstanigan," Ethan said proudly.

"You mean, Afghanistan?"

"That's what I said, Afstanigan," he frowned at Jimmy wondering if the man had a hearing problem.

"Do you live near here? Where's your Mom?"

"My Mom's at home with my new baby sister, Amy," he said. "I live in a house way, way over there."

Jimmy got to his feet, dusted himself off and looked in the direction Ethan was gesturing. He couldn't see any houses.

"Ethan, my friend is back there and he's hurt really bad. Can you take me to your house so I can get him some help?"

For a moment the little boy looked torn but as Jimmy extended his hand, Ethan took it and started back toward his house.

"Your Mom lets you come here by yourself?" Jimmy asked.

Ethan looked at his shoes before glancing up sheepishly.

"I kinda ran away."

"You did? Why?"

"My Mom doesn't understand about Buster," he said with a shake of his head. "Buster's my friend, Jimmy! My Dad's a Marine and he says, you never leave your friends behind."

Jimmy's thoughts went to Tony and a spear of guilt lanced painfully through his heart. He stopped in his tracks, unable to take another step forward knowing that Tony had risked his own life to save his. He had to do something…he had to go back.

"You're right," he said. "My friend and I know a Marine and he would never leave us behind."

Jimmy crouched down so he could look the little boy in the eyes.

"Ethan, I need you to do something very important for me. I need you to go home as fast as you can and call my Marine friend and tell him where we are. Do you think you can do that?" Jimmy asked, smiling gently as the little boy nodded intently.

"Good boy, er…I need a pen."

Ethan rummaged around in his backpack and finally produced a blue crayon and a piece of scrap paper. He handled it to Jimmy who closed his eyes and bonked himself on the forehead, realising he didn't know Gibbs' number. His eyes sprung open as Ducky's cell number rushed to the forefront of his mind and he jotted it down on the old candy bar wrapper.

"Okay, change of plans. I need you to call someone else. His friends call him Ducky but I call him Doctor Mallard."

Ethan crinkled his little nose in confusion.

"Aren't you his friend?" he asked.

"Oh yes, but he's kind of my boss, so I call him Doctor." He tucked the note into the front pocket of Ethan's jeans and looked again at the serious little face. "Call Doctor Mallard and tell him where we are. Tell him that Tony is badly hurt and needs an ambulance. Can you do that, Ethan?"

"I can do it, Jimmy, I'm a real fast runner," Ethan assured him. "Will you keep looking for Buster?"

Jimmy bit his bottom lip, and then nodded his head.

"I will," he said, startled when the small boy wrapped grateful arms around his neck.

The little boy started for home but skidded to a sudden stop.

"Wait!" he exclaimed.

Almost tearing the backpack from his shoulders in his haste, he tipped the varied contents onto the ground to aid his search. Finding what he was seeking, Ethan reached out and handed the items to Jimmy.

Jimmy looked from the small solemn face to the three slightly crumpled Gumby and Pokey bandaids in his hand.

"For Tony," Ethan said earnestly.

He made a startled little squawk when Jimmy pulled him in for a quick hug but smiled shyly as the young ME ruffled his blonde hair affectionately.

"Fast as you can," Jimmy repeated.

He watched for a moment as Ethan turned and ran for home, his little legs pumping for all they were worth. Then, taking a deep breath, he doubled back for Tony, desperately hoping he wasn't too late.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-0**

A/N: I turned Liz's story line on it's head this chapter but couldn't resist finding a cameo role for our little champion, Ethan. The other names mentioned in the story:- Liam is Ethan's twin brother while Samuel, Thomas and Amy are his 3 year old triplet siblings.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you, again, for your kind support. L


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A/N **I come bearing news! Ethan came home from hospital a few days ago. Still more treatments and a long recovery ahead but after seven long weeks he's home where he belongs. What a little champion! Thanks for you kind thoughts and prayers, L

**A Hiding to Nothing**

**Chapter 8**

McGee shifted nervously in the passenger seat of the agency sedan.

"Com-check," he said into the headset mike.

"I am receiving you, McGee," Ziva replied in a hushed tone.

"Loud and clear," the team leader answered quietly.

He checked the images being transmitted to the split screen of his laptop from the camera-embedded eyeglasses his teammates were wearing. He made a minor adjustment to the brightness then frowned and adjusted it back.

"Abby?" he said.

"Rrrready to rock, Timmy," Abby replied with forced cheerfulness as she watched the footage from her lab. "Receiving a clear signal from the tracking device and standing by with the facial composites of the kidnappers."

In the back seat, Ducky sat in uncharacteristic silence, still smarting that Gibbs had refused to let him deliver the ransom - he was, after all, just as invested in the success of this transaction as the former Marine. His thoughts turned to his young assistant. With Tony badly injured their chances of escape diminished greatly but, at this point, the elderly ME prayers were for their survival.

Over the years, Ducky had seen Jimmy Palmer grow into a talented and skilful ME. He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, a love of pathology and had proved to be a willing and enthusiastic listener of the older man's countless stories and recollections. Despite the need for the occasional rebuke, Ducky was confident that, some day, Jimmy Palmer would replace him as Chief Medical Examiner at NCIS.

Ducky had led a rich and full life yet the one thing fate had not accorded him was a family of his own. In a moment of despair, he wondered if Jimmy knew just how much he had come to mean to him. McGee's voice from the front seat cut through his musings.

"Good to go, Boss," he said.

"Roger that," came the calm reply. "Ziva?"

"Ready, Gibbs."

"Stay sharp. Peak hour at Union station's gonna make this guy damn hard to spot."

"Understood."

Adjusting the strap of the sports bag with one hand she absently brushed a wrinkle from her skirt with the other as she stood and walked toward the stairs leading to platform nine. Much to Abby's disappointment, Ziva had declined to wear the lilac corporate Barbie outfit and had chosen a soft grey business skirt and jacket. Wearing the camera-fitted glasses and with her hair swept into a fashionable "up-style" she more than passed muster as a clerical assistant. Her Sig Sauer brought a modicum of comfort tucked snugly into the small of her back but the absence of her ankle holster and knife left her feeling strangely bereft.

As she descended the stairs she moved her head slowly from side to side, scanning the area for anyone vaguely resembling the kidnappers. The images were transmitted to McGee and Abby for comparison to the facial composites provided by the Ferny Grove pharmacist. Gibbs was right; at nearly zero eight hundred Union station was a hive of activity as commuters hustled to make their way to work.

Her attention was drawn to a man sitting on a bench forty feet away. Hidden behind a newspaper with a ball cap pulled low over his face, he was dressed in work attire and steel-capped boots and looked for all the world like a labourer on his way to a construction site. His familiar blue eyes met hers for an instant as she made her way through the milling crowd to the vending machine.

She waited to one side, watching as an obese man wrestled the machine for the Snickers bar that had not dropped into the collection slot. She looked anxiously at her watch as the man began cursing and beating a ham-sized fist against the glass. She startled slightly as McGee's voice sounded in her earwig.

"Ziva, it's zero eight hundred. You've gotta get that guy away from there."

Taking a deep breath, Ziva stepped forward and tapped the large man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Sir, this machine is Amtrak property. I am going to have to ask you to step away."

"Not without my Snickers bar or my buck and a half," the man complained.

Reaching into her pocket, Ziva withdrew a ten-dollar bill.

"Go buy an apple," she said thrusting the cash into the man's meaty hand. "Trust me, you do not need the calories."

The man started to protest but instead shrugged his shoulders and merged into the crowd. Ziva stood by the machine for a moment before surreptitiously placing the sports bag beside it and moving away.

"The ball's in play," Gibbs said to his team.

A moment later a sound like distant thunder roared to life as the loud rumbling of two passenger trains arrived on either side of the platform. The loud speakers announced their arrival competing with the loud hissing and screech of the brakes and the clash of the carriage couplings as the trains came to a stop. The doors of both trains opened depositing hundreds more people onto the platform and transforming it into a slow-moving congregation. Gibbs cursed as he realised his view of the sports bag had been blocked.

"I've lost visual on the bag," he reported, trying desperately to push his way through the throng. "Ziva, you see it?"

"Negative," she replied, struggling her way back toward the machine "There are too many people."

By the time they broke free of the crowd and arrived at the vending machine, the sports bag was missing and both trains were leaving the station.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

As he rounded the final bend and saw the back fence of his home, Ethan let out a hybrid sob of relief and exhaustion. He had kept his promise to his new friend and had run all the way home. His knees and elbows were stinging beneath his clothes from a fall that had left him covered in dirt but he had bravely wiped his tears, dusted himself off and continued on his way.

Arriving at the back fence he slid two loose planks to the side and climbed through the small gap into his backyard. Scampering up to the house, he opened the kitchen door and skidded to a halt as he heard his mother speaking on the phone.

"That's right, Officer, his name is Ethan. He's five years old, approximately 35 inches tall with blonde hair and brown eyes. He's been missing for about two hours. What? Of course I've looked for him but I have a six week old baby and I need your help."

"Mommy?" Ethan called timidly.

Liz spun around quickly, her knees almost buckling as she saw her little boy standing at the entrance to the living room.

"Ethan!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees in front of him and engulfing him in a tight hug. "Thank God! Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She pulled away and held him at arm's length then, with a mother's trained eye, she assessed him for injuries. Seeing no obvious signs, her overwhelming relief turned to anger.

"Where have you been? I've been going crazy; you scared me-" she stopped abruptly and looked at the phone still in her hand. "Oh, Lord…um…Officer, I'm so sorry. Yes, he's here now. I'm so sorry to trouble you. Yes, I will, thank you and you have a good day, too."

Placing the cordless phone on the kitchen table she took several deep breaths in order to relax and then turned to face her son. Her heart melted at the sight of his tear-streaked face but he had broken several very important rules that were in place for his safety.

"Ethan, you know you're not allowed to leave the yard alone, don't you?" she asked pleased at her how calm her voice now sounded.

"Yes, Mommy but-"

"You went to the forest to look for Buster, didn't you?"

A loud sob escaped at the memory of his missing dog and his blonde head nodded.

"I know you miss your dog, honey, but how many times have Daddy and I have told you never to go there alone? What if something bad had happened to you?"

"Mommy, there was a man in the forest. He told me his name but I forgetted-"

"What?" Liz whispered, feeling her blood run cold. "Ethan, listen to me. Did this man hurt you?"

"No, Mommy, he was nice," Ethan said, wiping his face before smiling up at her. "He didn't hurt me, he's going to find Buster. He asked me to-"

The sound of a baby's distressed cry came from the nursery and Liz sighed wearily and looked back at her son.

"Ethan, I need you to go to your room while I see to Amy," she said.

"But Mommy, I-"

"I mean it. You go to your room and think about what Daddy and I have told you about stranger danger and leaving the yard on your own."

Ethan's face crumbled as two fat tears spilled from his brown eyes. Liz pulled her son in for a quick hug, releasing him before she lost her resolve.

"Aw, honey, I know we haven't had as much time together since Amy was born, but as soon as she's asleep I'll come get you and we'll talk, just you and me. But right now, I think you need a time-out. Do as I say and go to your room."

Ethan turned and ran to his bedroom, throwing himself onto his bed and sobbing into his pillow. His Dad always told him that a man was only as good as his word, and now he had broken his word to his new friend.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

By the time Gibbs and Ziva had double-timed it back to the car, McGee could tell them the signal from the tracking device was being submitted from within a moving train. With his fingers flashing quickly over the keyboard he was able to access the Amtrak timetable and determine the train was the 171 Northeast Regional that serviced the Northeast Corridor from Boston through Richmond to Newport News. The 171 had departed Union Station at zero eight hundred with its first stop scheduled at Alexandria in twenty-one minutes. Pulling out into the traffic with an impatient blast of the horn and a screech of tyres, Gibbs had every intention of meeting that train.

"Boss, it's peak hour," McGee said. "We'll never make it to Alexandria before the train."

"Contact someone, tell them to hold the train at Alexandria until we get there – no one gets on or off!"

"Er…Boss…can just we do that? I mean, if we delay one train the whole network gets backed up and…"

The pointed look on the lead agent's face was enough to convince the younger agent.

"I'm…just gonna stop the train," he muttered reaching for his cell.

"If I may, Jethro?" Ducky said from the back seat. "As you and Ziva both lost sight of the sports bag, how can you be sure that someone other than the kidnappers didn't take it?"

"My gut." Came the succinct response as the car swerved quickly around a slow moving vehicle.

"Ducky is right, Gibbs, should we not first confirm who actually has the sports bag before heading off on some wild moose chase?"

"Actually, my dear, the term to which you refer is actually a wild _goose _chase. It is one of the many phrases introduced to the language by William Shakespeare. I believe the first recorded citation is from Romeo and Juliet in 1592 when Mercutio said, 'Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five."

"So...goose, not moose?" she asked.

Yes, my dear, goose-chase not moose-chase," Ducky confirmed.

"If you two are finished goosing each other can we get back to the case?" Gibbs snapped. "Ziva, call Abby. Tell her to call Union Station and get a copy of the security footage of the platform nine."

"I already have, my choleric crime fighter," Abby's voice said over their earwigs.

"Tell me you got something, Abs," Gibbs said hating the desperate tone that coloured his voice.

"I've got something, Abs…I mean, Gibbs," Abby replied. "The image was grainy but I managed to clean it up with my new video enhancing program, which is, like, totally cool by the way. Did you know that the standard interpolation algorithms-"

"Abby!"

"Sorry, Gibbs, I'm a little distracted."

"Ya think? Does the tape show who took the damn bag?"

"Yes. The man who took the bag from beside the vending machine and boarded the 171 Northeast Regional was definitely one of the kidnappers. The facial composite was surprisingly accurate. He's wearing a striped sweatshirt and a Redskins ball cap. I'm sending a copy of the photo to McGee's computer."

"Thanks Abs."

"Boss," McGee said. "I spoke with the supervisor in the Amtrak Traffic Control Centre. He said they're going to need at least 30 minutes to take that train out of service."

"The train will have passed Alexandria by then, yes?" Ziva asked.

"Yes, but if they let it continue through to Manassas, there's a siding it can use so it doesn't block the track and delay the network. That's the best they can do."

"Call Alexandria and Manassas PD," Gibbs said. "I want those stations covered until we get there. Nobody-"

"Nobody gets on or off. I got it, Boss," McGee said, juggling his laptop and his cell as Gibbs changed direction to Manassas and floored the gas pedal.

Twenty minutes later McGee confirmed that the 171 had left Alexandria bound for Manassas and the tracking device was still on board the train. By the time they had arrived at Manassas Station, the train had been directed to a siding and the passengers had grown increasingly agitated by the delay. With the assistance of the Manassas PD, the train was evacuated and searched one carriage at a time. When they reached the final carriage their frustration levels soared when they found the sports bag containing a striped sweatshirt and Redskins ball cap but no sign of the money or the kidnapper.

"He must have changed bags and disembarked at Alexandria," Ziva stated.

Gibbs turned to Sergeant Rigby of the Manassas PD who had been in radio contact with the watch commander of Alexandria.

"How many people disembarked at Alexandria?"

Rigby looked surprised.

"Sir?"

"Our guy got off the train at Alexandria. I need you to contact the officer in charge and tell him we'll be there in thirty minutes."

The colour ran from Rigby's face and his jaw hung open.

"There a problem, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Sir, when we heard that the tracking device was heading to Manassas, I told Alexandria PD to stand down. They let the passengers leave an hour ago."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Ethan slowly turned the doorknob and eased open his bedroom door. He looked both ways down the hallway, relieved to find it empty. Cautiously he edged his way out the door and crept toward the kitchen as quietly as he could. As he neared the nursery, he heard the quiet creaking of the rocking chair and his mother humming softly as she tried to lull his new baby sister to sleep.

He stood stock still eyeing the wide open nursery door with trepidation. He stroked his imaginary beard wondering how he could get past without his mother seeing him. An idea occurred and he quickly lay down on his tummy and began to commando-crawl just like his Daddy had taught him. When he was well clear of the door he climbed to his feet and hurried to the kitchen, reaching for the cordless phone then, taking a deep breath, he did everything in reverse and returned to his room.

Quietly closing his bedroom down he leaned against it, feeling his little heart pounding in his chest. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the old candy bar wrapper and started to dial the number written in blue crayon. A thought occurred to him and he opened his closet door, sat down on the floor inside and closed the door behind him. Then he dialled the number again.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

As the team walked back to the car, a feeling of utter despair hung oppressively over them. Gibbs had been so sure that they could take the kidnapper at the drop site and force him to tell them where DiNozzo and Palmer were being held. Now the kidnapper and the ransom were gone and so, too, was any real chance of finding Tony and Palmer alive.

Underscoring his anger and frustration was a powerful guilt. Even with a bullet in his shoulder, DiNozzo had done everything Gibbs could have asked of him; the ATM and the ransom demand were stalling tactics orchestrated by his agent to give his team time and opportunity to find them. The former Marine marvelled at the depth of Tony's continuing faith in him and felt both honoured and disturbed by it. It didn't seem to matter what he did, Tony trusted him regardless…and Gibbs had let him down.

Ducky glanced at the lead agent, taking in the rigid posture and the signs of a man trying to hold himself together while tearing his insides apart.

"This wasn't your fault, Jethro," he said as they arrived at the sedan and took their seats.

"I should've had more people on this, Duck. Should've had our people cover Alexandria and Manassas."

"You did what you could with limited resources and very little time," the doctor continued. "One could hardly expect-"

"I'm team leader, Ducky, it's my job to expect!" Gibbs snapped, the harshness in his tone reflecting his self-recrimination.

"Surely there's something else we can do?" Ducky pleaded. "You said yourself that Anthony-"

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of Ducky's ringing cell. He excused himself and answered the call.

"Doctor Mallard speaking."

"Is that Doctor Duck?" a little voice whispered.

"This is Doctor Donald Mallard…whom may I ask is calling?"

"It's me, Ethan Liam Samuel Thomas," the barely audible voice replied.

"I'm afraid I can hardly hear you…you need to speak up, young man?"

"I can't…she'll hear me."

"Who will hear you?" Ducky asked in confusion.

"My Mom…she's mad at me cos I ran away."

"Oh my…may I ask, how old you are, my boy?"

"I'm five and a quarter going on six."

"I see…tell me young man, how did you come by my number?"

"The man gave it to me…he told me to call you and tell you to come find him."

"What man?" Ducky said, urgently signalling to the others and placing the call on speaker. McGee snatched up his own cell and had Abby trace Ducky's call.

"Keep him talking, Duck," Gibbs said.

"You say a man gave you my number and asked you to call me," Ducky repeated for the benefit of the others. "Can you tell me who that was?"

"The man in the woods," Ethan replied. "I…forgetted his name."

"That's quite alright, lad. What was this man doing in the woods?"

"He was talking to me and looking for my dog…he ran away because he's scared of thunder."

"The man is scared of thunder?"

"No, Doctor Duck, my dog is scared of thunder. Are you going to help me find him?"

"Ethan, can you tell me what he looked like?"

"He has brown hair, brown eyes, a white patch over one eye and a short waggly tail."

"Well…he sounds like a fine dog indeed," Ducky chuckled. "But I meant the man in the woods. Was he hurt?"

"He had bruises and he fell down…but he said to tell you to come and get him. He said you were his friend."

"Yes, my boy…I certainly am. Was he alone?"

"He's probably with Buster by now."

"Buster?"

"My dog…he said he'd look for him."

"Yes, well…I'm sure he will. Ethan, can you tell me where you're calling from?"

"I'm in my closet."

"And just where is your closet?"

"In my bedroom, silly!"

"Ask a silly question, Duck!" Gibbs quipped.

"Do you think I could speak with your Mother?" Ducky asked.

"Why?" Ethan drawled suspiciously.

"I'd like to ask her where you live so that my friends and I can come and help you find your dog."

"_Ethan!" _A female voice sounded in the background.

"My Mom's coming! I'll have to call you back," Ethan said quickly disconnecting the call.

"Hello? Hello? Ethan, are you there?" Ducky said, looking hopefully at McGee who still had his cell to his ear.

"She got it, Boss," McGee said. "The call was from a landline in the name of John Thomas."

"Got an address?"

"14 Appleby Lane, Preston Meadows, Virginia."

"Preston Meadows? _Dammit!"_ Gibbs hissed, putting the car into a sharp u-turn and planting his foot on the gas. "Kyle Boone."

"Kyle Boone is dead, Jethro," Ducky replied. "You witnessed his execution several years ago."

"Tony's message, Duck. He was telling us he was being held near where Boone buried his victims."

With a few rapid keystrokes of his laptop, McGee played the audio of Tony's message and they listened closely to the wording.

_"You gotta give 'em…what they want, Boss," Tony said, struggling to get his breathing under control. "You'll never…find us in the boon…boondocks. Screw with them and…this place will become a…a graveyard real fast. We're on death row here. There'll be no… stay of execution for us."_

"Of course," Ducky murmured.

"Before my time, yes?" Ziva asked Ducky.

"Yes, my dear, Kyle Boone was a psychopathic killer who brutally murdered over twenty young women, including a Navy petty officer. He dumped their bodies in woodland not far from Preston Meadows. He was sentenced to the death penalty and was on death row for many years before he was finally executed."

The sedan lurch forward as Gibbs demanded more speed. His face contorted into an almost unrecognisable mask of anger and self-reproach.

'_Hold on, Tony_,' he thought. '_We're coming_.'

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Reaching into reserves he didn't even know he had, Palmer staggered a little, urging his fatigued body to push on. He fell heavily to his knees; his chest heaving as the world tilted slightly and then righted itself. He caught a whiff of a familiar scent and cupped his hand over his nose and mouth to confirm it. Then, holding his trembling hands in front of his face, he knew the tremors and sweet smelling breath had little to do with fatigue and a lot to do with the onset of hypoglycaemia.

Jimmy suffered from mild diabetes and diligently managed the chronic condition. But the stress and over-exertion of the last two days, combined with the lack of food, had resulted in the ominous symptoms. Climbing to his feet, he tried to conserve what energy he had left and jogged at a much slower pace. It wasn't until he had arrived in the dense group of trees at the front of the cabin that he realised he didn't have the faintest idea of what to do next. He should have been terrified but he wasn't. He should have gone for help with Ethan but he didn't. He should have done what Tony had asked and left him there…but he wouldn't.

His chest tightened as he remembered the sound of the gunshot. If Tony were already dead, this would be a futile exercise but if by some stroke of fortune the agent was still alive he owed it to his friend to try to help him. He took a deep breath to ready himself - if he were going to die he would not do it cowering among the trees – no matter what the circumstances.

He searched the ground around his feet and collected several sizeable rocks and a sturdy tree branch. He would throw the rocks at the cabin to lure Muluk out to investigate the noise, then wait until the man drew level with the tree and squash his head like a ripe melon. Okay, so it was an idea more suited to Wile E Coyote but in the absence of any others it just had to work. He drew back his arm, ready to launch the first rock when he felt the barrel of a gun pressed firmly into the small of his back.

"Drop it now," the menacing voice of Sanjaya hissed in his ear.

The Indonesian took a firm hold of Palmer's arm and twisted it painfully behind his back as he dragged him toward the cabin calling to Muluk in Bahasa to avoid being shot. Muluk's eyes widened as he saw the two men approach and as he opened the door to allow them entry a heated argument followed. The two men were still screaming at each other as Sanjaya unlocked the door to the back room and practically threw Palmer into the darkness.

Unaccustomed to the darkness, Jimmy tripped over something and fell to the ground. He turned his head to the side as he fell, trying desperately not to smash his face. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he gave himself a moment to recover, enabling his breathing to resume its normal rhythm. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his heart stopped at the sight of Tony, lying prone and unmoving on the ground.

"Oh God," he whispered, scrambling to the agent's side.

He reached out with trembling hands, feeling the heat of a blast furnace coming from his friend. Calling his name produced no response and a quick check of his vitals confirmed his pulse was racing and his respirations were shallow, noisy and strained. He quickly checked him for injuries before easing him onto his black unable to prevent the strangled gasp that escaped upon seeing his friends face.

His left eye was swollen shut, the deeply purpled skin pulled unnaturally tight. A deep gash in his left eyebrow had filled the eye socket with blood that contrasted garishly with his pallor. He carefully lifted the saturated dressing from Tony's shoulder and swallowed harshly at the sight of the badly infected wound. A mottled purple bruise the size and dimensions of a man's boot marred Tony's ribcage. With gentle hands, Jimmy probed the area, flinching as he felt a rib shift beneath his fingers and Tony sucked in a sharp breath.

"Tony? Tony, can you hear me?"

One bleary, pain-filled eye opened and looked up at Palmer questioningly.

"I…I couldn't leave you like this, Tony. I had to come back," he replied as he witnessed the last vestige of hope fade from his friend's face.

"You sh..should have k-kept going – now we're both dead."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-0**

A/N- I have a few horrendously busy weeks coming up but will try to get the next chapter to you ASAP. Hope you'll join me for the final chapter, L


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A/N Apologies for the "War and Peace" proportions of this final chapter – I hope you enjoy it, L**

**A Hiding to Nothing**

**Final Chapter**

Putting the agency sedan into a controlled slide, Gibbs parked the vehicle at the curb in front of the Thomas residence. With the dust still settling around them, they climbed from the car.

Knowing that a crowd of strangers would more than likely intimidate a young child, Gibbs instructed the others to stay with the vehicle. He was halfway up the front path before he noticed Ducky following right on his heels.

Sighing, he tried to tell himself that the ME was as concerned about Palmer and DiNozzo as he was. But Gibbs was a man used to having his orders followed without question or hesitation and Ducky was trying his over-extended patience.

"Can I help you, Duck?" he asked with a hint of irritation.

"I know what you're going to say, Jethro," the doctor replied, "but I'll be as quiet as a wee mouse. You won't even know that I'm here."

"Don't bet on it," Gibbs muttered, turning on his heel and leading the way to the front door.

He reached for the doorbell when Ducky grabbed his wrist and pointed to a small sign that read - '_Shhhh, our baby is sleeping.' _

Rolling his eyes impatiently, Gibbs knocked gently on the doorframe. After a moment a young woman with dark eyes and dark brown shoulder-length hair answered.

"May I help you?" she asked quietly.

"Special Agent Gibbs and Doctor Mallard, NCIS," he said holding his ID and badge for her inspection. "We're looking for Mrs John Thomas."

"I'm Liz Thomas," the woman whispered as the colour drained from her face. "Oh my God…has something happened to my husband? Please tell me he's not dead."

"Your husband's in the military, ma'am?"

"Marines," she replied. "Special Operations Regiment, he's currently deployed."

"We didn't mean to worry you. We're not here about your husband…we're here about your son."

"My son?" Liz said looking deeply puzzled.

"We'd like to talk with him. It's very important."

"I think there's been a mistake, Agent..er"

"Gibbs…and there's no mistake. Two of our people are missing; one is seriously injured. Your son called Doctor Mallard this morning on a cell number he could have only gotten from our people."

"I'm sorry Agent Gibbs but that's not possible, my son is only five years old."

"Five and a quarter going on six, actually," Ducky said with a disarming smile. "And if memory serves, his name is Ethan Liam Samuel Thomas, his dog, Buster, was startled by the thunder and ran away and he has a baby sister named…Amy."

As the young woman stared blankly, trying to understand how these men knew so much about her family, Ducky's cell phone rang.

"Doctor Mallard speaking."

"Is that Doctor Duck?" the small voice whispered.

"Ethan? Is that you, my boy?" Ducky replied putting the call on speaker.

"Yes, it's me…Ethan Liam Samuel Thomas."

Liz' hand flew to her mouth as she recognised her child's voice. She unlatched the door, allowing the men to enter the living room and then led them to Ethan's bedroom where the boy was supposed to be taking a nap. She looked startled when the room appeared empty but calmed a little when Gibbs put his finger to his lips to quieten her and pointed to the closet door.

"Can you hear me, Doctor Duck?" Ethan asked worriedly.

Gibbs quietly opened the closet door and they found the boy sitting on the floor among the shoes and toys, his back toward them.

"I can't talk any louder or my Mom will hear me and I'll be in big trouble," he explained. "My Dad says that a man is as good as his word. Girls don't get that, Doctor Duck."

Liz cleared her throat and the boy stilled instantly. Slowly, the blonde head turned to face them, his brown eyes wide with surprise and a hint of trepidation.

"Uh oh."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

The sound of voices and movement from the front room of the cabin, led Palmer to deduce that their captors were getting ready to leave. Although he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew there was no way the Indonesians would leave them alive. He hoped that Ethan had made it home and contacted Ducky and Gibbs…and he prayed that his teammates would find them in time.

He crossed his arms in a self-hug, seeking warmth and trying to stop the tremors that were progressively getting worse. Beside him, still burning with fever, Tony was becoming agitated – muttering and squirming. Palmer extended a hand and checked Tony's vital signs noting that his temperature and pulse had increased dangerously.

"Don't know," Tony muttered.

"What don't you know, Tony?" Jimmy asked, surprised by his steady voice.

Tony's eyes flickered open, a brief moment of lucidity amongst the avalanche of pain-induced confusion.

"Don't know where we…where we are," he rasped.

The words struck Palmer like a kick in the stomach but he found enough resolve to answer calmly.

"We're being held in a cabin. You were shot, remember?" Jimmy said, battling to suppress a rush of fear. "But you're going to be just fine and Agent Gibbs and Doctor Mallard are going to find us really soon, okay? Okay, Tony?"

"'kay," he whispered in reply.

Tony turned his eyes toward his friend and tried to reassure him with a small smile but it was clear to Palmer that the ex-detective had little fight left.

"Hold on, Tony," Palmer pleaded. "Please hold on."

Tony managed a small, almost imperceptible nod before his eyes closed and he drifted off again.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0 **

They lured the startled boy out of his closet and, noting his wary look at his Mom, assured him that he was not in any trouble. When they made their introductions, Ethan surprised the elderly medical examiner by giving him a huge hug. He was so happy! He had kept his promise to his friend and now Doctor Duck was here. He positively identified a photo of Jimmy Palmer and told them he had seen him on the track that led to the old Mitchell place. Liz explained that the old Mitchell place had been deserted for six years, since the old man died and the cabin had fallen into disrepair.

"We get a lot of vagrants wandering through the forest and staying in the old cabin," she said. "That's why I'm so strict about Ethan leaving the yard. I keep the gate locked and I have no idea how he gets out."

Gibbs swallowed a smile as the boy innocently batted his long eyelashes at his mother.

"Ethan, do you know where Jimmy is now?" Gibbs asked.

"He's with Tony," Ethan said biting his bottom lip. "He said Tony was badly hurt. He went back to help him and he told me to run home and call Doctor Duck."

"I'm so sorry," Liz said. "Ethan tried to tell me but I was so cross that he'd left the yard I wouldn't let him explain."

"You weren't to know, my dear," Ducky replied.

"Where is this Mitchell place?" Gibbs asked.

"If you take the track, it's about a two mile hike from here but if you drive, the only way in is to go to the other side of the forest, leave your car and then hike a mile. Old man Mitchell was a bit of a recluse."

"We'll take the track," Gibbs announced turning on his heel to tell Ziva and McGee to gear up.

"You can use our back gate," Liz offered. "It will save you a little time."

Gibbs nodded his thanks as he reached the front door.

"Wait!" Ethan cried. "Agent Gibbs, will you look for my dog?"

The former Marine's lips formed a quirky smile as he looked at the little face peering anxiously up at him

"You bet," he said ruffling the blonde head affectionately before striding back to the car and calling to Ziva and McGee.

"Gear up!"

He popped the trunk and reached for the Kevlar vests as his agents joined him.

"Take only what you need. We gotta cover two-miles on foot and we gotta do it fast," he said reaching for the Remington shotguns.

As the agents silently donned their vests and checked their weapons, Ducky reached for the spare Kevlar.

"Not gonna happen," Gibbs said taking a firm hold of the older man's wrist.

"May I ask, why not?" Ducky answered indignantly.

Gibbs remained silent but his withering glance spoke volumes.

"That glare may work on your agents, Jethro, but I'm not easily intimidated."

"You're not an agent either, Ducky, you're a doctor."

"And Anthony needs immediate medical attention," he countered tapping his medical bag.

"We have to move fast, we can't wait for you."

"May I remind you, Jethro, that I was a miler at Eton."

"That was fifty years ago, Duck!"

"If you're waiting on me, Special Agent Gibbs, I can assure you that you'll be backing up!"

Knowing they had little time to waste, Gibbs grabbed the spare Kevlar vest and fitted the protective garment to the stubborn doctor's torso.

"You keep up and stick close," he growled. "You do what I say when I say it – we clear?"

"Crystal," Ducky replied, eyeing the shotgun McGee was holding for Gibbs.

"Don't even think about it," he snapped and turned to see Ziva jogging toward the house. "Hey! You got somewhere to be?"

Ziva turned back to her team leader.

"I need to borrow some shoes and clothes," she said.

"You what?"

"Did you ever try running through a forest dressed in a business suit and high heels?" Ziva asked as she continued up the front path.

Tucking his laptop under the passenger seat, the image of Gibbs running in high heels drifted through McGee's mind and he snorted softly.

"Something funny, McGee?" Gibbs growled.

"No, Boss, er…just…er…clearing my throat," he replied avoiding meeting the lead agent's eye.

"Calm down, Jethro, I'm sure the dear girl won't keep us waiting long," Ducky said.

"I've had four wives, Duck. I've spent half my life waiting for women to change their clothes."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

"It really was an amazing shot."

Palmer continued to speak quietly to the unresponsive man, as much to bring comfort to himself as to Tony, and willing his friend to reply.

Jimmy was cold and tired; his head ached and the room tilted nauseatingly with his every movement. The dampness of the floor seeped through his clothing and seemed to permeate into his bones. He had lived with hypoglycaemia long enough to know that if help didn't arrive soon, he and Tony would both be in desperate trouble.

He huffed out a laugh that bordered on hysteria sob as he thought of the macabre irony. Only DiNozzo and Palmer could survive two days held captive by Jemaah Islamiyah and both die anyway. He shut down that train of thought before it left the station.

Tony shifted restlessly beside him and Palmer struggled in behind him easing the agent's back against his chest. Tony's fever produced enough excess body heat to warm both men. He monitored the rise and falls of his friend's chest and listened to his raspy breathing as he continued his recollection.

"We were behind 33-35 with seven seconds left on the clock, remember? You pushed the ball up court, waiting for someone to get clear, then, with three seconds left and defenders in your face, you launched the ball for a 26-foot 3-pointer that won us the game."

He gave the man a gentle shake.

"Just think of the mileage you can get with that story," Palmer said. "You could drive McGee and Ziva crazy! You've gotta hang on so we can go and watch the play-offs next week, right?"

He closed his eyes and took a fortifying breath.

"Help's coming, Tony, just hang on."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Geared up and suitably attired the agents started toward the back gate of the Thomas' yard when Ethan blocked it, his little arms holding on tight to both sides of the gateway.

"Please take me with you," his brown eyes pleaded with Gibbs. "I won't slow you down, I can run _really_ fast."

Ignoring the pain it caused, Gibbs took a knee so he could talk to the child face to face.

"Sorry, big guy; can't do that."

"But I said I'd help Jimmy, Agent Gibbs, I _promised."_

"You did help…you called us," Gibbs assured him. "Kept your word like a fine Marine...just like your Dad."

His eyes filled and the little blonde head drooped forward in an attempt to hide the traitorous tears. Gibbs eased two fingers under the boy's chin and lifted his head until their eyes met. He wiped the tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb and looked into their dark brown depths.

"Need you to stay here, look after your Mom and your baby sister. Can you do that?"

The boy reluctantly nodded his head and went to stand by his mother, taking her hand protectively.

"Good man," Gibbs said.

Liz caught the lead agent's gaze and silently mouthed _"thank you."_

He nodded his acknowledgement and turned back to his team.

"Let's move."

McGee and Ziva hurried out through the gate and headed for the trail as Gibbs tried one last time to dissuade the stubborn medical examiner.

"Any point asking you to stay put?" he said.

"None whatsoever," Ducky replied definitively.

"s'what I thought," Gibbs replied resignedly. "Let's go, double time."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

They made good time along the track; Gibbs taking point and Ziva covering the rear with McGee pacing Ducky in between. They backed tracked Ethan's footprints until they found the small clearing where he had met with Palmer and turned back toward the house. Picking up the pace they followed Palmer's trail, passing the remains of the little boy's dog on the way.

They stepped cautiously and stayed within the tree line to prevent being seen as they approached. The crudely built dwelling looked more like a shanty than a cabin and was built in the middle of a clearing. The surrounding trees were approximately fifty feet from the cabin on all four sides. The front and both sides had large picture windows making a covert approach from the front almost impossible.

"Ziva, check the back. I want to know what we're dealing with," Gibbs said.

"On it," the Israeli replied as she set-off on silent feet, keeping to the tree line.

Gibbs, McGee and Ducky hunkered down in the undergrowth rechecking the equipment and waiting for her return. Gibbs handed a water bottle to the ME who, despite looking rather flushed and breathing heavily, had kept up with the agents surprising well. A few more moments passed before Ziva's voice sounded through their earwigs, warning of her return.

"Coming in," she said to avoid startling her teammates as she approached.

"What've you got?" Gibbs asked.

"The room at the rear has only one centre window, approximately nine feet above the ground," she reported. "If we approached the cabin from the rear and moved forward on either side staying close to the walls, I believe we could storm the front door and take the terrorists by surprise."

"Tony and Palmer?"

"The rear room would seem the most likely place to hold them."

"We need eyes in that room and we need to know exactly where DiNozzo and Palmer are and how many terrorists we're dealing with," Gibbs said.

"Boss, I can use the SWATscope to get a look in the rear window," McGee suggested, removing the cylindrical surveillance periscope from his backpack. "At least we'll know where Tony and Palmer are and whether they're alone."

"We need a diversion," Ziva said. "Something to draw the terrorists out."

"We could request satellite coverage with heat seeking capability," McGee suggested.

"No time," Gibbs said.

"Tear gas and smoke canisters?" Ziva offered.

"They'd kill our people before we could make a move," the lead agent replied. "We circle to the back. When we're certain our people are alone in that room we'll take the front."

"Er, Boss?" McGee drawled.

Ziva and Gibbs turned in the direction McGee was looking, shocked to see their chief medical examiner wandering toward the front of the cabin. He had discarded his jacket and Kevlar vest, revealing his red bowtie and matching suspenders. He'd tucked the bottoms of his slacks into a pair of argyle socks and hung agency issued binoculars around his neck.

"What is Ducky doing?" Ziva hissed.

"Trying to get his damn head shot off," Gibbs snapped. "McGee, get to the rear window. Find out if Tony and Palmer are in that room. Now!"

"Right, Boss," McGee replied, setting off quickly through the trees.

"Ziva, find a position and hold your fire until I give the order."

"Understood," she answered and hurried off to find a position opposite Gibbs.

As the elderly man knocked on the cabin door, Gibbs muttered a curse.

"Dammit it, Ducky!"

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

With the ransom money stowed and the rest of their gear packed, Sanjaya and Muluk had turned their attention to how best to deal with their captives. Although they had chosen the cabin due to its remote location, there was still the chance that someone could stumble upon it, find the bodies and contact the police. They didn't have the time or inclination to dig a grave and therefore decided they would take the two men deeper into the forest before killing them and covering their bodies with foliage.

Decision made, they were just getting to their feet when they were startled by a knock at the door and the sound of a cultured British accent.

"Hello? Hello, is anybody there?"

Drawing their weapons, they pressed themselves to the wall on either side of the large front window, cursing that their complacency had allowed someone to take them by surprise. The sight of the elderly man at the door took them aback.

"Get rid of him," Sanjaya hissed, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his jeans but never taking his hand from the grip.

Muluk opened the door a few inches and took in the innocuous appearance of the man.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Good day to you, young Sir," Ducky greeted cordially. "My name is Professor Donald Mallard of the Richmond Ornithology and Bird Watching Society. I wonder if I might trouble you for some water?"

Muluk's dark eyes scanned the tree line for any sign of movement. When a long moment passed, Ducky cleared his throat and held up a water bottle.

"Despite the overcast conditions, it is unseasonably hot and I'm afraid I exhausted my water supply quite sometime ago. Would you mind?"

As Muluk took the bottle and handed it to Sanjaya to fill, the door opened a little wider and Ducky's eyes surreptitiously swept the room. Hidden in the tree line to the left and the right of the cabin, Gibbs and Ziva steadied their weapons and prepared to fire at the first sign of trouble.

"What are you doing here," Muluk growled.

"I'm very pleased you asked," Ducky replied. "Our society has recently had several reported sightings of the red-headed woodpecker in this vicinity. It is very rare indeed for this species to be so far north during the winter months…I wonder if you may have seen one during your stay? They are a medium-sized woodpecker with black upper-parts and tail and white under-parts and rump. The head, throat, and upper breast are dark red. The wings are black with large white patches while the bill, legs and feet are black. This is the only woodpecker in the east with a completely red head."

"I do not know this bird," Muluk said, not bothering to disguise his irritation.

"Oh…not to worry, I have a friend who has a penchant for birds of the red-headed variety although not the feathered species, if you get my meaning," Ducky chuckled as the filled water bottle was thrust toward him.

"I thank you for your kindness," Ducky said as the door closed firmly in his face. "Well…I must be off. The red-headed woodpecker waits for no man!"

As Ducky turned and walked down the track away from the cabin, his voice sounded in Gibbs' earwig.

"Only two men are currently in the front of the cabin."

"McGee?"

"In position, Boss."

"You see our people?"

"I got 'em. They're alone in the rear room. Boss…they're not moving."

Gibbs' gut clenched painfully but he refused to surrender hope.

"Hold you're position,"he instructed. "Ziva and I are on our way. Ducky, find somewhere to take cover until I give you the all clear. You got that?"

"I hear you, Jethro," Ducky replied.

"Ziva, move out."

Moments later, Gibbs and Ziva burst from the tree line directly behind the cabin and ran at a crouch to join McGee under the window. He took the SWATscope from McGee and adjusted the angle until he saw the two men lying, unmoving, on the ground. Palmer was leaning against the wall, his head canted awkwardly to the side as Tony sprawled against him, bloodied and beaten. The sight sent shards of fear deep into the former Marine's heart until his agent shifted restlessly and was stilled as Palmer murmured a few words.

"They're alive," Gibbs said as voices rose loudly from the front of the cabin.

Handing the SWATscope back to McGee he silently signalled for his agents to take the left side of the cabin while he took the right and, staying as close to the walls as they could, they crouched low under the side-windows before taking their positions either side of the front door.

Chancing a look through the window, Gibbs saw the packs by the door and knew the terrorists were about to leave. He signalled for McGee and Ziva to take the man on the right while he covered the man on the left. Adrenalin surged through his veins as Sanjaya attached a silencer to his gun and unlocked the door to the back room.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0 **

As the door swung on its hinges and crashed into the wall, Palmer startled awake. Reflexively, the young medical examiner tightened his hold on his friend as Sanjaya stepped menacingly into the room. Palmer's heart skipped as the Indonesian raised his gun and pointed it at Tony's head.

"No!" Palmer shouted.

The word had barely left his mouth before all hell broke loose at the front of the cabin and Sanjaya's head exploded in a mess of blood and bone. Before Palmer could fully comprehend what had happened, Gibbs appeared at his side. Jimmy knew the lead agent was speaking because his lips were moving but somehow he couldn't make out the words. His heart was pounding painfully against his sternum and he took a deep breath to compose himself and allow reality to filter back into his brain.

"You hurt, Jimmy?" Gibbs asked with a rare use of the younger man's given name.

Still unable to form words, Palmer shook his head. Gibbs' attention was drawn to his agent and he rested the palm of his hand on Tony's forehead, cringing at the heat he felt.

"Get Ducky in here and get a Medivac!" Gibbs ordered as he tried to prise his injured agent out of the young ME assistant's grip. "I've got him, Palmer. Let him go, I got him."

Reluctantly, Jimmy released his friend. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. A moment later, a warm hand rested on the side of his face and he opened his eyes to the sight of his mentor kneeling beside him, concern and relief fighting for dominance on his face.

Suddenly enveloped in Ducky's protective embrace, Palmer's bruised face burned with shame as tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks. His shame was short-lived when he noticed with surprise, similar tears tracking the face of Doctor Donald Mallard.

"I'm here, my boy," Ducky said. "I'm here."

Ducky frowned, noting that Palmer was sweating and trembling despite the coldness of the room. He studied the younger man a moment before reaching for his medical bag.

"How bad is it, Jimmy?" he asked.

"Not so bad," Palmer replied gamely.

Ducky snorted.

"I can see some of Anthony's bravado has rubbed off on you," he frowned before producing a bag of glucose tablets and placing two into his assistant's hand. "It's a good thing I always carry these with me."

Jimmy looked confused.

"For you, Doctor?"

"No, my boy," Ducky smiled gently. "For you."

He patted Jimmy's knee before moving to kneel next to Tony and gently turning the injured man's head toward him.

"Anthony, can you hear me?" he asked, gently tapping the agent's cheek. "Anthony?"

Receiving no response, he quickly took Tony's vital signs and gently eased the hoodie from his shoulder. The untreated bullet wound excreted fluids that reeked of infection. Tony's left eye was swollen tightly closed and the skin was badly bruised. To the doctor's surprise a deep gash in Tony's eyebrow was currently being held together by a Gumby and Pokey bandaid. McGee and Ziva appeared at the door.

"All clear, Boss, Medivac's on the way and the other guy's cuffed and ready to transport."

Ducky withdrew a syringe from his medical bag and gave Tony a shot of antibiotic.

"There's not much I can do, Jethro, but clean these wounds and try to keep him stable until the EMT's arrive. Keep trying to rouse him, let him know you're here."

Gibbs' fingers trembled as the tension and fear that had been his constant companion since his agent's disappearance, dissipated. He cupped the younger man's cheek, encouraging him to break through the thick haze separating him from his friends.

"Tony," he said quietly. "Tony, open your eyes."

When it became obvious that the gentle approach wasn't working, Gibbs realised a change of tack was in order. He tapped the cheek a little more firmly and hardened his tone.

"Hey, DiNozzo, look at me!"

Finally, in response to the direct command, one bleary green eye opened and some conscious function seemed to emerge from the younger man.

"B-boss," came the whispered reply. "J-Jimmy?"

"He's fine," Gibbs replied. "Medics are on the way."

Ducky had readied a gauze dressing with antiseptic but hesitated before applying it.

"Anthony," he said seriously. "I'm afraid this is going to be quite painful."

Tony took a deep breath and nodded his understanding while Gibbs moved in behind him to support his weight. As the ME placed the gauze over the wound a spear of pure agony shot through Tony's shoulder. He arched his back off the ground, clenching his jaw to trap the scream that tried to escape. Gibbs held him tightly, his presence the only comfort he could give. The burning pain slowly subsided, leaving him completely exhausted. As his eyelids closed he leaned heavily against the lead agent's chest.

"Stay with us, Tony," Gibbs urged.

But despite his best efforts, with a soft sigh, Tony's world went still except for the comforting sound of his Boss' heartbeat.

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Tony and Palmer were airlifted to Bethesda and, upon their arrival, were whisked into the trauma ward. Having insisted on making the flight with their subordinates, Ducky and Gibbs attended to the medical insurance forms and were anxiously waiting for news while Ziva and McGee escorted the remaining prisoner back to the Navy yard.

Abby arrived soon after, bearing hot beverages and hugs and reassuring both men that Tony and Jimmy would be just fine. Barely a word had been spoken between the lead agent and the chief medical examiner but Ducky had known Gibbs long enough to realise that he was royally pissed. Never one to avoid a confrontation, Ducky took a seat beside his old friend and sighed theatrically.

"We got them back Jethro, true, they're a little worse for wear but we did it," he said.

"What you did, Duck, was disobey my orders and jeopardise yourself and my team," Gibbs stated.

"Oh come now, Jethro, surely you can't be bothered by my brief venture into improvisational acting?" Ducky's smile disappeared when he saw the lead agent's hard expression. "You needed the intel and I got it. I should think a thank you might be in order."

"You want me to thank you, Duck?" Gibbs said incredulously. "What part of stick close and do what I tell you to do, didn't you understand?"

"Special Agent Gibbs, are you angry at what I did or that I didn't first seek your permission?"

"I wouldn't have given my permission!" Gibbs growled.

"That is precisely why I did not ask for it!" Ducky countered. "You needed a diversion and I was very careful to-."

"Removing your body armour is _not_ being careful!"

"I couldn't very well knock on the door wearing a Kevlar emblazoned with NCIS."

"You ever think what would've happened if they'd shot you, Duck? They'd have killed Tony and Palmer next! I'd have kicked DiNozzo's ass if he'd have pulled a stunt like that-"

"Stop it!" Abby scolded stepping between them. "Stop it, stop it, stop it before one of you says something you'll totally regret. Can we at least wait until we know whether Tony and Jimmy are okay before you two kill each other? I can only deal with so much heartache at one time."

Exchanging one last icy look the men returned to neutral corners until a doctor appeared fifteen minutes later to provide updates on their team mates.

Jimmy was suffering from the onset of hypoglycaemia and was currently receiving treatment to stabilise his sugar levels. He had various bruises and contusions although none appeared to be serious. He was dehydrated and exhausted and was being moved to a private room for overnight observation.

Tony was being prepared for emergency surgery to remove the bullet and clean and debride his infected shoulder. X-rays revealed he had also sustained a broken rib and a fractured orbital. As the doctor disappeared back through the swinging doors of the trauma rooms, Ducky left to call Breena and Palmer's mother and to sit with his young assistant.

It was several hours later that Gibbs and Abby were told that Tony had been transferred from the operating theatre directly to the SICU to receive both post-operative care and treatment for septicaemia. They were taken to ICU to speak with Tony's doctor and as they looked through the glass walls of the cubicle, they were deeply troubled by the amount of medical equipment currently in use or on standby.

"Try not to be alarmed by all of this," the doctor said waving his hand toward the equipment. "We're giving Tony broad-spectrum antibiotics, blood transfusions and we're treating him with oxygen and medication to keep his white blood count and his blood pressure under control. We believe we've caught this early enough to stop it before it can do any harm."

"What kind of harm?" Gibbs asked.

"Worst case - and I assure you we are a long way from that – septicaemia can cause serious and potentially lethal complications, including septic shock which can lead to organ failure. That's why we have the respirator and dialysis machine standing by."

"Oh my God, Tony could die?" Abby whispered, tears glistened in her eyes, cutting small trails of misery down her cheeks.

"As I said, Ms Scuito, Tony's a long way from that point and we're working hard to ensure he never gets there. He's strong and he's healthy and that will work in his favour. You can sit with him if you like but try not to disturb him."

McGee and Ziva arrived to check on their teammates' condition and to update Gibbs on the case. Using the contact details retrieved from the JI memory stick, Homeland Security had formed a task force to take all members named on the list into custody on suspicion of conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism on US soil.

As it was getting late, Gibbs asked McGee and Ziva to see a reluctant Abby home safely and he continued his vigil by his agent's bedside. Once again, his whole universe had diminished to a non-descript little cubicle with its beeping monitors.

Gibbs stared at Tony's lax features, wondering how the younger man's vibrant personality could have vanished in such a short time, trapped within the confines of his dangerously ill body. Gibbs was surprised when Tony partially opened his good eye, his brow furrowed in confusion until he focussed on Gibbs sitting in the nearby chair. As their eyes met, a thousand unspoken words crossed the small space between them until the pull of medication drew the younger man back into the depths of a drug-induced sleep.

Gibbs dozed, on and off, in the backbreaking chair, watching the cavalcade of medical staff wander in and out of the cubicle. They silently checked and adjusted Tony's various intravenous medications, recorded his vitals and disappeared back into the night. When his agent became restless, he placed his hand on Tony's forehead - it was way too hot. Beneath the oxygen mask, Tony sighed and turned his head toward the haven of his boss' cool palm, accepting the comfort from Gibbs as he would from no other person and drawing on the former Marine's strength in ways both conscious and instinctive.

Gibbs reached for the call button when a distinctly familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"It's alright, Jethro."

He turned to see Ducky standing by the door looking unusually tired and old.

"He's burning up, Duck."

"That's a good sign," Ducky said moving beside the bed and placing the digital thermometer in Tony's ear.

When the instrument beeped, Ducky checked the reading and nodded, satisfied that the temperature wasn't dangerously high.

"A symptom of septic shock is low body temperature. Our young man is doing what he always does…he's fighting."

"Palmer?"

"He'll be fine," Ducky said, the relief evident on his face. "The doctor gave him a mild sedative to help him sleep and he'll be released first thing in the morning."

A moment's awkward silence passed between them until they spoke at the same time.

"Jethro."

"Duck."

They exchanged a small grin.

"You told me something several years ago that is very relevant today. You said, never apologise…except to a friend," Ducky said. "I'm afraid I let my concern for Mister Palmer and Anthony override my self-preservation and plain old common sense. I hope you can forgive me."

Gibbs huffed out a laugh and pulled the older man into a one armed hug.

"You ever do that again and I'll shoot you myself."

Ducky chuckled then realised the sheets were moulding themselves to Tony's sweaty body, making the hospital gown a sodden second skin.

"Let's see what we can do about making this young man more comfortable, hmmm?"

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

Ducky spent the night keeping Gibbs company as Tony battled a high fever and the dangerous effects of septicaemia. He watched Gibbs move to the younger man's side each time he shifted restlessly and murmured incoherently beneath the oxygen mask. The ME marvelled at how a simple touch of Gibbs' hand said 'safe' to his agent and the sound of Gibbs' voice reached into the darkness of Tony's fevered mind and calmed him almost instantly.

By late afternoon on the following day, Tony's condition had improved considerably. His fever had broken during the night and the oxygen mask had been replaced by a cannula. He had slept most of the day and woke to the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"Boss?" he said quietly, watching through one bleary eye as Gibbs lowered the newspaper he was reading.

"How you feeling?" Gibbs asked, getting to his feet to pour a drink of water for his agent.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," Tony replied, taking the straw between his lips and sipping the cool liquid. "You been here all night?"

Gibbs gave him a wan smile that clearly said 'where else would I be?'

"Sorry."

"If I'd figured out that clue earlier you could have avoided some of this," Gibbs stated with rare self-reproachful colouring his tone.

"What?" Tony asked, trying desperately to banish the drowsiness that had cloaked him on waking.

"I didn't get the clue, DiNozzo! I wasted valuable time. You and Palmer could have been killed."

"Well, it was a bit of a long shot," Tony replied.

"I've been your partner for over ten years, I'm supposed to know how you think! You trusted me to be on the same page and I wasn't in the same damn book!"

"Come on, Boss, we both know those clues were a little cryptic…even for me."

"Six months ago I'd have read you loud and clear," Gibbs said shaking his head in disgust. "Before Barrett and your assignment for SecNav."

A small smile snuck out before Tony could reel it in.

"You saying you missed me, Boss?"

"No!"

"Cos it kinda sounded like that's what you were saying even though you never actually said the words," the younger man grinned smugly. "You missed me, didn't ya?"

"Like a fat kid on a diet misses chocolate cake, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled unconvincingly.

"I knew it," Tony said with a huge shit-eating grin. "Maybe we'll just have to spend a bit more time together, you know, hanging out watching ESPN, eating pizza or having a hit in the batting cage. Re-establish our connection…you know…for work."

Gibbs watched as what little energy the younger man had drained quickly away and he leaned back into the pillows.

"Sleep," Gibbs directed. "I've got an errand to run, I'll be back later."

Tony nodded his head sleepily.

"You know, Boss, feeling guilty and being guilty aren't one and the same thing," he said as sleep took him.

Gibbs smiled at the sleeping man, grateful for the total absolution.

"Roger that, DiNozzo."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0**

**EPILOGUE – ONE WEEK LATER**

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0 **

"Ethan, can you look through the window and see who's at the door, please?" Liz called from the kitchen.

Leaving his matchbox cars on the mat, Ethan climbed onto the couch and looked out the living room window.

"Mommy! It's Jimmy and Doctor Duck!" the excited little boy exclaimed.

Wiping her hands on a dishcloth and tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, Liz smiled knowing as she opened the front door, her son almost vibrating with joyful anticipation.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Thomas," Ducky greeted cordially. "I do hope we aren't interrupting anything."

"Not at all, Doctor Mallard, please come in…and please call me Liz."

"Only if you call me, Ducky," the elderly ME replied with a mischievous grin. "Allow me to introduce my assistant."

"Jimmy!" Ethan called as Palmer reached down and hoisted the little boy onto his hip. "Mommy, this is Jimmy – Jimmy this is my Mommy."

Liz and Palmer exchanged greetings and the men were welcomed into her home.

"I can't tell you how relieved we were to hear that you and Tony were okay," Liz said. "Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea?"

"Actually, Liz, we're here to see young Ethan," Ducky said.

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Palmer replied putting the boy down and ruffling the blonde head.

"We've brought a small token of our appreciation for helping Mister Pa- Jimmy and Tony," Ducky said, handling Ethan a wrapped parcel. "You were exceptionally brave for such a wee lad."

Ethan glanced at his mother for permission to accept the gift; she gave it with a smile and a nod.

Carefully removing the paper, Ethan opened the small box to reveal a dog leash and a collar. His brown eyes welled with unshed tears and his little chin started to quiver.

"Don't you like it?" Ducky asked.

"It's very nice, thank you," the trembling voice replied. "But my dog Buster died. Agent Gibbs brought his body home cause he's a Marine and they don't leave anyone behind. He helped me dig a grave in the garden and we buried him."

"Oh dear," Ducky said sadly. "We're very sorry to hear about Buster, my boy."

A loud hammering noise sounded from the back yard and Ducky and Liz exchanged a wink before they went outside to find Gibbs putting the finishing touches to a small woodwork project.

"Agent Gibbs!" Ethan yelled excitedly as he ran to the lead agent and hugged him around his knees. "You're here, too! Doctor Duck and Jimmy just got here!"

"That so?" Gibbs replied.

"What are you doing?" the inquisitive boy asked as he looked around the man and saw a small dog kennel.

"Thought you could use this," Gibbs replied, watching as the little boy's face scrunched in confusion.

"Agent Gibbs?" he said, gesturing for Gibbs to come closer. Gibbs took a knee and looked the boy in the eyes. "Buster died, remember? I don't have a dog anymore."

"Didn't build it for Buster," Gibbs said pointing to the side gate where Abby and Tony were waiting, both wearing goofy big grins.

"It's okay. That's my friend Abby and the guy wearing the sling is Tony," Gibbs said. "Why don't you go and see what they've got for you?"

As Ethan walked slowly toward them, Abby and Tony separated to reveal a scruffy little white dog with bright intelligent eyes and a large black spot on his back.

"Ethan, this is Titch," Abby said.

The little boy's jaw dropped open and a small sob escaped.

"He's mine?" he asked with pleading brown eyes.

"Well, that depends," Abby said. "The man at the dog rescue centre said this dog could only go to a home where someone would play with him and he'd get lots of love."

"I would love him and I'd play with him everyday," Ethan said earnestly.

"And…," Tony added. "He could only go to a little boy who is five and a quarter going on six."

"I…I'm five and a quarter going on six," the little boy said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. "And I would brush him and feed him and give him a bath and lots of cuddles and…"

"Well then," Tony said looking at Abby. "Looks like Titch has found a new home."

Ethan glanced back at his Mom who was also struggling with tears of her own.

"He's yours, honey," she said. "Agent Gibbs called me last night to arrange it."

"He's really mine?" Ethan asked again. "All mine?"

"He's really yours!" Abby smiled widely. "Why don't you call him?"

Ethan crouched down and tentatively called to the dog. With a burst of enthusiasm the scruffy little dog launched himself at the little boy, wagging his tail and licking at his face as Ethan giggled with joy. Climbing to his feet he scampered to his Mom and each of his guests and gave them his very best thank you hugs.

"I hope you saved one of those hugs for me, yes?" Ziva asked as she and McGee arrived both carrying armfuls of groceries.

"Let's get this barbeque going," McGee added. "I'm starving."

**0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0**

Ducky and Gibbs manned the barbeque, each sipping a drink and watching as Ethan played ball with Titch in the backyard – the little dog struggling to come to terms with the concept of fetch. McGee and Palmer joined in the fun attempting to show Ethan some basic dog training commands but the little dog only had eyes for Ethan.

Gibbs kept a watchful eye on Tony, who had been released from hospital only hours before and was dozing on a deck chair. He was still very pale and although the swelling in and around his eye had reduced considerably the bruising was still very prominent. He tired easily and his muscles still ached from the residual effects of the fever. His shoulder and broken rib were painful and would take several weeks to heal. The entire team dreaded the long stint of desk duty that awaited their senior field agent, knowing too well that a bored DiNozzo was a dangerous DiNozzo.

Abby and Ziva assisted Liz to prepare the salads and desserts and to set the table on the large decking area while goo-ing and gaa-ing over seven week old Amy. As they waited for the last of the steaks to finish cooking, Palmer called Ethan over to the deck chair where Tony was still resting.

"Tony and I have another surprise for you," Palmer told Ethan.

"I don't think my Mommy would let me have another dog," he whispered.

"It's not another dog," Palmer laughed handing him another small parcel. "Your Mom told us that you watch these guys on TV all the time."

Ethan squealed gleefully as he opened the gift and held the two figurines up for everyone to see.

"It's Gumby and Pokey!"

"Bet you didn't know that we used to watch them on TV when we were your age," Palmer said.

"Really?" Ethan said.

"Yep," Tony replied. "And do you know how Gumby and Pokey met?"

The little boy shook his head listening intently.

"In the third episode, Gumby went into a western town out in the desert. There were two sets of railroad tracks and Pokey had his hoof caught in one. A train was coming and to save him, Gumby had to throw a switch that moved the train to another track. He did it just before the train went by. Pokey was saved and they became buddies from then on**."**

"That's kind of like us, Ethan," Palmer told him. "Tony and I were in a lot of trouble and we needed someone to help us and you did. You called Doctor Duck and help came for us. You were very, very, brave."

"Just like Gumby?" he asked.

"Just like Gumby," Tony agreed and pulled him into a one armed hug. "Thanks big guy."

Ethan smiled shyly and gave Palmer a matching hug as they were called to the table and dinner was served.

A gentle breeze cooled the heat of the fading sun as the team joined the Thomas family at the table. Ethan chatted excitedly to his new friends but struggled to cut his small steak until Liz leaned over him and cut his dinner into manageable pieces. Beside him, a one armed Tony was having a similar problem and looked expectantly at Gibbs. The former Marine rolled his eyes before reaching over Tony and cutting up his dinner. The younger man's smug smile instantly morphed into a frown when he received a gentle head slap for his trouble.

After dessert was eaten, the team cleaned up the kitchen while Liz herded a reluctant but exhausted Ethan off to bed. Ducky joined Gibbs on the deck, handing him a coffee and watching quietly as the younger members of the team talked and laughed together.

There's something medicinal about shared laughter, its healing properties outstrip any other form of communication. Nervous tension dissolves under its influence, anxiety morphs into release. Feeling his boss' eyes on him Tony met his gaze and smiled…and just like that Gibbs' world righted itself.

**THE END**

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A/N Huge thanks to Liz for trusting me with her story idea. Liz has also asked me to mention that she has written a thank you and will post it as a review once this chapter is posted. Thanks for your numerous kind wishes and prayers for "our little champion," Ethan. Many thanks, as always, to those who have supported this story with your encouraging reviews and alerts. Until next time, with every good wish, L


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